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JAMES    FORBES 

THE  CHORUS  LADY 

WFl 

THE  SHOW  SHOP 

^a 
THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR 


THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR 

AND  OTHER  PLAYS 


BY 

JAMES  FORBES 


WITH    INTRODUCTION   BY 

WALTER   PRICHARD   EATON 


NEW  XBr  YORK 
GEORGE   H.  DORAN   COMPANY 


THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  AND  OTHER  PLAYS 

WITH  INTRODUCTION  BY  WALTER  PRICHARD  EATON 

Copyright,  1920,  by  George  H.  Doran  Company 


THE  CHORUS  LADY 
Copyright,  1906,  by  James  Forbes 


THE  SHOW  SHOP 
Copyright,  1914,  by  James  Forbes 


THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR 
Copyright,  1919,  by  James  Forbes 


All  rights  whatever  are  reserved  by  the  author  and  no  use  of  this  material 
•whether  in  the  form  of  public  reading,  recitation  or  representation  may  be 
made  without  the  permission  of  the  author.  Attention  is  called  to  the 
penalties  provided  by  law  for  any  infringement  of  the  author's  rights,  as 
follows: 

"Sec.  4966: — Any  person  publicly  performing  or  representing  any 
dramatic  or  musical  composition  for  which  copyright  has  been  obtained, 
without  the  consent  of  the  proprietor  of  said  dramatic  or  musical  com 
position,  or  his  heirs  and  assign".,  shall  be  Ihbl"  for  damages  therefor, 
such  damages  in  all  cases  to  rx»  assessed  at  such  sum,  not  less  than  one 
hundred  dollars  for  the  first  and  fifty  dollars  for  every  subsequent 
performance,  a«  to  t'je  court  shall  np->ear  to  be  just.  If  the  unlawful 
performance  and  representation  be  wilful  and  for  profit,  such  person 
or  persons  shall  be  guilty  of  a  misdemeanor,  and  upon  conviction  be  im 
prisoned  for  a  period  not  exceeding  one  year." — U.  S.  Revised  Statutes: 
Title  60,  Chap.  3. 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


i 


TO 
MY        WIFE 

AND    TO 

STEPHEN  AND  GRACE  NOYES  WRIGHT 

IN    GRATEFUL  APPRECIATION 

OF   THEIR  LOVING  ENCOURAGEMENT 

AND   PITILESS    CRITICISM 


R&5268 


INTRODUCTION 

Why  print  a  play?  The  three  plays  by  Mr.  Forbes,  col 
lected  in  this  volume,  give,  it  seems  to  me,  a  rather  conclusive 
answer.  All  three  of  them  have  been  eminently  successful 
on  the  stage,  for  which,  of  course,  they  were  primarily  in 
tended,  and  upon  which  they  must  needs  be  seen,  even  by 
those  trained  to  read  play  manuscripts,  in  order  fully  to  catch 
their  flavor  or  respond  to  their  emotional  appeals.  Yet 
when  they  are  read  in  cold  print  they  are  seen  to  vary  greatly 
in  merit,  and  what  in  the  stage  success  of  each  one  was 
dependent  upon  the  extraneous  elements  of  an  actor's 
personality,  or  the  rush  of  living  action  that  permits  the 
spectator  no  time  for  pause  and  reflection,  or  the  passions  and 
idiosyncrasies  of  the  day,  becomes  suddenly  clear.  There 
is  no  magic  in  print.  The  dramatist  who  writes,  indeed, 
for  the  page  rather  than  the  stage,  aspiring  to  be  "literary," 
is  merely  courting  a  very  proper  disaster.  Yet  the  dramatist 
whose  plot  and  personages — their  speech,  their  motives,  the 
lesson  of  their  lives — will  not  stand  the  calmer  and  lingering 
scrutiny  of  the  reflective  reader,  is  only  a  hack  writer,  after 
all.  In  the  high  sense,  a  drama  is  " literature"  not  because 
it  can  be  read  with  pleasure,  but  merely  because  it  can  endure 
close  and  reflective  scrutiny.  From  the  failure  of  our  theatre 
to  keep  its  successful  plays  in  a  repertoire,  there  is  no  other 
recourse  to  the  dramatist  who  challenges  such  scrutiny — a 
praiseworthy  challenge,  surely — but  to  print  his  plays.  That 
is  why  the  number  of  printed  plays  is  a  fair  indication  of  the 
serious  ambition  of  our  dramatists. 

Of  the  three  plays  offered  here,  "The  Chorus  Lady,"  no 
reader  will  need  to  be  told,  can  least  endure  the  scrutiny 
print  affords.  Yet  it  was  enormously  successful  in  our 

vii 


viii  INTRODUCTION 

theatre,  how  successful  readers  who  did  not  see  the  original 
production  in  1906  may  be  at  some  loss  to  guess.  The  title 
part  was  played  by  Miss  Rose  Stahl,  an  actress  who  brought 
to  its  impersonation  so  breezy  and  crudely  wholesome  and 
dynamic  a  personality,  tossing  off  its  slang  with  such  un 
studied  and  spontaneous  zest,  that  she  took  the  public 
captive.  The  play,  to  be  sure,  had  its  origin  in  a  magazine 
sketch  by  Mr.  Forbes,  and  this  sketch  was  expanded  into  a 
play  upon  a  hint  given  to  him  by  some  picture  he  saw — the 
picture  of  a  chorus  girl  interrupted  at  a  supper  by  the  arrival 
of  her  obviously  rural  father  and  mother.  It  was  not,  then, 
"tailored"  to  Miss  Stahl's  order.  But  it  certainly  fitted 
her  as  no  later  play  she  acted  ever  did,  and  the  reader  of 
today,  noting  the  crudities  or  triteness  of  plot,  the  melo 
dramatic  villain,  the  poverty  and  conventionality  of  essential 
characterization,  may  well  be  excused  for  classing  it  as  a 
successful  example  of  that  type  of  play  called  "character 
comedy,"  which  is  to  say,  a  play  in  which  some  one  or  more 
vivid  and  entertaining  persons  are  allowed  the  run  of  the 
stage,  making  the  most  of  their  eccentricities  and  thus  always 
conditioning  the  story  to  immediate  theatrical  demands.  It 
is  a  type  of  play  flourishing  essentially  in  the  theatre,  and  sel 
dom  enough  able  to  stand  up  under  a  reader's  scrutiny.  The 
stage  version  of  "Rip  Van  Winkle,"  so  marvelously  acted 
by  Jefferson,  is  a  poor,  shabby  thing  in  print.  In  spite  of 
Mr.  Forbes'  assertion  that  he  always  works  from  character, 
not  from  plot  or  situation,  in  writing  a  play,  evolving  his 
story  from  the  sort  of  people  he  is  presenting,  one  can  hardly 
escape  the  conviction  that  Patricia  O'Brien,  at  least,  became 
known  to  his  imagination  with  her  makeup  on — he  saw  her 
as  an  amusing  stage  figure — and  rather  found  a  story  to  show 
her  off  than  tracked  down  her  actual  We. 

"The  Show  Shop"  is  stuff  of  a  different  metal.  The 
present  writer  thought,  when  he  saw  this  play  first  acted,  that 
it  was  a  good-natured  satire  of  American  stage  life,  as  deftly, 
as  truthfully  and  as  humanly  done  as  anything  of  a  similar 
nature  in  the  Continental  theatres.  A  present  reading  of  the 


INTRODUCTION  ix 

manucript  does  not  seem  to  him  to  call  for  revision  of  this 
judgment.  Mr.  Forbes  says  that  the  germ  of  the  comedy 
was  a  desire  to  put  the  " stage  mother"  into  a  play.  This 
desire  he  has  certainly  realized;  Mrs.  Dean,  even  in  print, 
is  a  formidable  object!  But  how  neatly  each  one  of  his 
characters  is  sketched,  how  diversified  they  are,  how  human, 
from  the  little  Hebrew  manager  who  doesn't  believe  he  knows 
how  to  pick  a  failure,  to  the  gloomy  and  unimportant  author 
who  haunts  the  flies  as  his  manuscript  is  slaughtered  to  make 
an  ingenue's  holiday.  It  may  well  be  that  the  average 
audience  is  not  sufficiently  sophisticated  to  appreciate  in  full 
either  the  truthful  character  pictures  or  the  satire  of  "The 
Show  Shop";  but  that  is  nothing  against  its  technical 
merits.  It  remains  the  most  pungent,  amusing,  and  yet  the 
most  kindly  satire  of  stage  life  and  the  shams  of  theatrical 
production,  yet  written  by  an  American.  There  can  be  no 
question  in  the  reader's  mind  whether  this  play  was  tailored 
for  an  actor  or  actress.  It  was  quite  obviously  written  out 
of  a  first  hand  acquaintance  with  the  characters,  who  con 
ditioned  the  story  quite  according  to  their  weaknesses  and 
amiable  failings,  as  the  author  felt  them.  Accordingly,  it 
stands  up  four  square  under  the  test  of  print. 

Mr.  Forbes  says  that  after  he  has  become  acquainted  with 
his  characters,  knows  ail  about  them  and  their  antecedents, 
and  has  found  out  what  their  story  is,  he  is  extremely  un 
happy  and  dissatisfied  if  he  cannot  put  that  story  into  a 
sentence.  The  preliminary  sentence  which  summed  up,  for 
him,  "The  Famous  Mrs.  Fair"  was,  he  says,  something  as 
follows: — "A  woman  actuated  by  duty  engages  in  war  work, 
winning  honors  and  the  loving  admiration  and  encourage 
ment  of  her  family;  but  when  on  her  return  she,  actuated  by 
selfish  vanity,  again  leaves  them,  the  realization  is  brought 
home  to  her  tragically  that  a  wife  and  mother  can  have  a 
career  but  not  at  the  expense  of  her  obligations  to  her  home 
and  family." 

That  sentence,  it  seems  to  me,  clears  away  a  good  deal  of 
the  dispute  which  has  gone  on  regarding  this  latest  and  most 


x  INTRODUCTION 

serious  of  Mr.  Forbes'  plays.  Written  immediately  after 
the  World  War,  it  was  quite  natural  that  the  author  chose 
war  work  as  the  unselfish  career  his  heroine  had  been  follow 
ing  without  disaster  to  her  home,  but  war  work  was  not 
essential  to  his  story;  it  might  have  been  something  quite 
different.  The  whole  point  was  that  during  Mrs.  Fair's 
first  absence  from  home  she  left  behind  a  sustaining  devotion, 
and  during  her  second  absence  this  sustaining  devotion  was 
quite  naturally  absent.  The  author  did  not  argue  that  a 
married  woman  cannot  have  a  "career"  (indeed,  he  showed 
the  son's  wife  to  be  quite  successfully  holding  down  her 
job),  meanwhile  contradicting  himself  by  stating  that  his 
heroine  had  already  followed  a  career  for  four  years.  Critics 
of  the  play  have  assumed  a  contradiction  that  does  not  exist — 
possibly  because  Mr.  Forbes  has,  in  reality,  not  argued  at 
all,  but  merely  told  his  story  and  left  all  to  inference;  not 
always  a  safe  proceeding  in  this  world  so  dependent  on  sign 
boards.  It  does  not  appear  from  a  reading  of  the  play  that 
Mrs.  Fair  was  anything  more  than  an  ordinarily  capable 
woman,  as  her  family  were  certainly  nothing  more  than 
ordinary  folk.  Under  the  impetus  of  the  war,  Mrs.  Fair 
became  a  hero — war  makes  many  heroes  out  of  ordinary 
material — and  her  family,  in  one  way  or  another,  were  moved 
by  exactly  the  same  impetus  to  transcend  the  normal.  The 
play  began  with  the  coming  back  to  normal,  the  very  com 
monplace  normal  of  the  Fair  family.  The  real  trouble 
seemed  to  be  that  Mrs.  Fair  never  knew  she  was  common 
place.  The  woman  who,  under  normal  conditions,  can  look 
after  a  "career"  and  a  family  at  the  same  time,  doing  justice 
to  both,  is  exceptional;  she  cannot  be  commonplace,  for  she 
has  got  to  furnish  to  her  flock  the  same  sustaining  stimulus 
that  war  had  previously  furnished  to  the  Fairs.  One  rather 
suspects  that  Mrs.  Fair's  daughter-in-law  had  capacities  in 
that  direction,  for  she  possessed  the  hard  common  sense 
and  direct  vision  which  come  from  contact  with  realities, 
a  privilege  denied  to  the  wealthy.  Certainly  there  is  no 
evidence  in  this  play  that  Mr.  Forbes  believes  it  cannot  be 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

done,  that  he  is  an  anti-feminist.  All  he  says  is,  that  Mrs. 
Fair,  under  normal  conditions,  was  too  shallow  and  vain  a 
woman  to  do  it,  and  by  a  set  of  almost  tragic  circumstances 
he  brought  the  lesson  home  to  her  and  put  her  on  the  possible 
road  to  finding  an  ultimate  solution.  Why,  then,  should 
many  spectators  have  felt  his  play  did  not  hold  together? 
Perhaps  the  trouble  is  that  we  have  been  so  accustomed  of 
late  to  direct  preachment  in  our  serious  drama  that  we  are 
a  bit  bewildered  when  the  preaching  is  done  by  the  more 
artistic  method  of  a  story  without  footnotes. 

At  any  rate,  such  controversies  as  have  followed  the  pro 
duction  of  "The  Famous  Mrs.  Fair"  were  quite  impossible 
over  "The  Chorus  Lady."  In  the  thirteen  years  which 
elapsed  between  the  composition  of  those  two  plays,  it  is 
quite  evident  that  Mr.  Forbes  considerably  deepened  his 
conception  of  what  he  means  by  "character,"  moving  from 
the  superficial  to  the  fundamental,  from  externals  to  internals, 
from  mannerisms  to  manners.  He  has  thus  moved  from  a 
play  which  suffers  severely  under  the  test  of  print  to  one  which 
can  meet  the  test  with  the  assurance  born  of  a  reasoned 
reflection  on  life  and  human  motives.  One  wishes  that  from 
this  individual  case,  he  could  draw  an  analogy  taking  in  the 
whole  field  of  American  drama;  that  he  could  say  it  is  with 
all  our  playwrights  as  it  is  with  Mr.  Forbes.  But  such  a 
statement,  alas!  would  be  the  measure  of  hope  rather  than 
judgment. 

WALTER  PRICHARD  EATON. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE  CHORUS  LADY "".     •       17 

THE  SHOW  SHOP     .     .     .     .  '  .     .     •'.:!•     •       93 
THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR ".!•     .     203 


xiii 


THE  CHORUS  LADY 

A   COMEDY   IN    FOUR   ACTS 


THE  PERSONS  OF  THE  PLAY 


PATRICIA  O'BRIEN 
NORA  O'BRIEN 
MRS.  O'BRIEN 
PATRICK  O'BRIEN 
DAN  MALLORY 
DICK  CRAWFORD 
SYLVIA  SIMPSON 
GEORGIE  ADAMS  COOTE 

MlLLY  SULTZER 

INEZ  BLAIR 

EVELYN  LAR.UE 

Lou  ARCHER 

RITA  NICHOLS 

MAI  DELANEY 

ROGERS 

THE  DUKE 

JAKEY 

SHRIMP 

A  CALL  BOY 

A  LAUNDRYMAN 

The  Scenes  of  the  First  Act  are  laid  in  the  home  of  the 
trainer  at  the  MALLORY  RACING  STABLES,  on  Long  Island, 
in  the  month  of  November;  those  of  the  succeeding  acts 
occur  in  New  York  City  between  the  hours  of  7:45  and 
midnight  of  an  evening  in  the  following  April,  beginning  in 
a  dressing  room  of  the  Longacre  Theatre,  continuing  in 
the  apartment  of  RICHARD  CRAWFORD,  and  concluding  in 
the  Harlem  flat  occupied  by  PATRICIA  and  NORA  O'BRIEN. 


THE  CHORUS  LADY 

Original  cast,  as   first   presented   at   the   Savoy  Theatre, 
New  York,  September  ist,  1906. 

It  is  arranged  in  the  order  in  which  the  characters  first 
speak. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN Alice  Leigh 

NORA  O'BRIEN Eva  Dennison 

SHRIMP George  Colt  on 

THE  DUKE Thomas  Maguire 

JAKEY Frank  Fay 

PATRICK  O'BRIEN  ....  Giles  Shine 

DICK  CRAWFORD    ....  Frank  Byrne 

PATRICIA  O'BRIEN  ....  ROSE  STAHL 

DAN  MALLORY Wilfred  Lucas 

MILLY  SULTZER      ....  Amy  Lesser 

INEZ  BLAIR Claire  Lane 

EVELYN  LAR.UE      ....  Helen  Hilton 

RITA  NICHOLS Annie  Ives 

Lou  ARCHER Margaret  Wheeler 

MAI  DELANEY  .....  Carolyn  Green 

GEORGIE  ADAMS  COOTE  .    .  Amy  Lee 

A  CALL  BOY Thomas  Magtare 

SYLVIA  SIMPSON    ....  Maude  Knowlton 

A  LAUNDRYMAN     ....  George  Colton 

ROGERS Thomas  Lawrence 


THE  CHORUS   LADY 


THE  FIRST  ACT 

The  kitchen  in  the  home  of  PATRICK  O'BRIEN,  the  trainer 
of  the  Mallory  Racing  Stables.  It  is  a  low  ceilinged 
room  with  a  long  recessed  window  at  the  back  through 
which  can  be  seen  a  bleak,  November  landscape.  In 
an  angle  at  the  right  of  the  room  is  a  large  chimney, 
its  huge  old-time  fireplace  filled  now  with  a  kitchen 
range,  in  which  a  fire  is  lighted.  Beside  the  fireplace 
is  a  door  opening  into  a  hall  in  which  are  the  stairs. 
Across  the  hall  is  the  parlor.  There  is  another  door  in 
the  rear  wall  to  the  right  of  the  window.  It  opens  on 
to  a  porch.  On  the  left  wall  is  a  dresser  for  china  and 
a  kitchen  sink.  Above  the  sink  hangs  a  small  mirror t 
a  towel  rack  and  a  dishpan.  In  the  centre  of  the  room 
is  a  large  table.  There  are  a  half  dozen  kitchen  chairs 
with  rush  seats,  an  armchair  and  a  rocking  chair.  The 
room  serves  as  kitchen,  dining-room  and  living-room, 
and  with  its  freshly  starched  white  window  curtains,  its 
shining  pots  and  pans  is  the  "pink"  of  neatness. 

SHRIMP,  JAKEY,  THE  DUKE,  stable-boys  and  MRS.  O'BRIEN, 
the  wife  of  the  trainer,  are  seated  at  breakfast. 
SHRIMP  and  JAKEY  are  products  of  New  York's  East 
Side;  THE  DUKE  is  a  cockney  importation,  an  ex* 
jockey.  MRS.  O'BRIEN  is  a  stout  motherly  soul  in  the 
fifties  clad  in  a  maroon-coloured  merino  dress  ovef 
which  is  a  large  kitchen  apron.  The  boys  are  gob 
bling  their  food,  MRS.  O'BRIEN  heaping  their  plates 
with  hash. 

17 


15  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  i 

MRS.    O'BRIEN.    [Calling.]    Nora— No— ra— Nora,    are 
yees  asleep? 

NORA.  [Outside.]  Ye-es. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Then  stir  yourself. 

NORA  [Outside.]  Yes,  yes,  I'm  coming. 

[NORA,  MRS.  O'BRIEN'S  daughter,  a  very  pretty  girl 
of  eighteen,  comes  in  sulkily. 

NORA.  [Peevishly.]  A  person  can't  get  time  to  dress  in 
this  house. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Dress,  is  it?  It's  primpin'  ye  were,  and 
for  a  lot  o'  stable  boys. 

NORA.    Stable  boys!     The  idea!     Dirty  little  brats! 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  The  airs  of  her!  Look  to  the  boys,  now, 
while  I  go  skim  a  pan  of  milk. 

[She  takes  a  pitcher  from  the  table  and  goes  outside. 
NORA  gets  the  coffee  pot  from  the  stove  and  pours 
herself  a  cup  of  coffee. 

NORA.  Shrimp,  who  won  this  morning? 

SHRIMP.  Ginger,  wid  de  Duke  up. 

NORA.  Who  was  on  Lady  Belle? 

SHRIMP.  Me.     Wuz  you  in  wrong? 

NORA.  You've  lost  me  five  dollars  to  the  Duke  and  I'll 
never  speak  to  you  again. 

SHRIMP.  At  dat  if  she  hadn't  been  forced  to  de  deep 
goin'  on  de  rail  I'd  a  bodered  de  Duke  a  few. 

THE  DUKE.  You'd  bothered  me  a  few.  You'd  bally  well 
have  to  know  'ow  to  sit  a  mount,  old  top,  afore  you  can 
bother  the  Duke. 

SHRIMP.  Ah  you!  [To  NORA.]  And  Jakey  tangled  me 
at  de  start. 

JAKEY.  Tangled  nuttin'.  Don't  go  tryin'  to  queer  me 
cuz  you's  an  onion. 

NORA.  [To  SHRIMP.]  You  nearly  made  a  nice  mess  of 
things.  For  two  pins  I'd  shake  you  good. 

THE  DUKE.  [Rising.]  Let  me  'ave  the  pleasure. 

SHRIMP.  Just  try  it  once. 

THE  DUKE.  You  ain't  fit  to  'andle.     [Going  to  NORA.] 


ACT  i]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  19 

I  say  you  know  I  don't  want  to  be  too  pressing  but  I  needs 
the  coin. 

NORA.  You'll  have  to  wait  a  while. 
THE  DUKE.  See  'ere,  are  you  welchin'? 
NORA.  Haven't  I  always  paid  you? 
THE  DUKE.  Can't  you  get  it  from  Pat? 
NORA.  I  promised  her  the  last  time  I  wouldn't  ever  bet 
again. 

THE  DUKE.  I  say,  think  I'm  going  to  get  out  there  an' 
ride  like  'ell  for  nothing? 

SHRIMP.  See  here,  "old  top,"  that's  no  way  to  talk  to  a 
goil. 

JAKEY.  Give  him  de  rinky  dink,  Nora. 

[THE  DUKE  folds  his  fist  and  looks  threateningly  at 

SHRIMP,  who  glares  at  him. 
THE  DUKE.  I'll  tell  your  father  meself. 
NORA.  Go  on,  tell  him. 

[She   bursts  into  tears.     SHRIMP  rises  and  goes  to 

THE  DUKE. 
SHRIMP.  Say  kid,  stop  abusin'  de  loidy. 

[THE  DUKE  makes  a  pass  at  SHRIMP  who  returns  it. 
JAKEY  rises  to  watch  the  fight  which  is  interrupted 
by  the  return  of  MRS.  O'BRIEN  carrying  the  pitcher 
of  milk. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Stop  your  scrappin",  or  you'll  regret  it 
fer  it's  no  breakfast  you'll  get. 

[The  boys  scurry  to  their  places.  NORA  and  MRS. 
O'BRIEN  sit  at  opposite  ends  of  the  table.  All  re 
sume  their  breakfast. 

SHRIMP.  Look  at  de  Duke,  eatin'  wid  a  fork.     Trowin' 
on  a  lot  of  lugs  cuz  he  wins  five  dollars. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  What's  that?     Who  won  five  dollars? 

JAKEY.  De  Duke. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Who  off  a? 

[There  is  a  pause  and  the  boys  look  covertly  at  NORA. 
MRS.  O'BRIEN,  who  is  filling  the  glasses  with  milk, 
stops.  She  looks  at  the  boys,  then  at  NORA. 


20  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  i 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Nora,  have  you  been  bettin'  again? 
NORA.  [Innocently.]  Me?     I'd  like  to  know  where  I'd 
get  five  dollars. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Well,  I'm  thankful.  I  don't  want  an 
other  row  on  me  hands,  an'  you  know  well  what  happened 
last  time  your  father  caught  ye  gamblin'  on  the  trials. 

NORA.  Shrimp,  who  was  that  man  at  the  stables,  with 
Mr.  Mallory,  this  morning? 

SHRIMP.  De  one  dat  was  watchin'  de  trials? 
NORA.  Yes. 
SHRIMP.  Soich  me. 

NORA.  [Coquet tishly.]  What  like  a  looking  man  was  he? 
Handsome? 

THE  DUKE.  Fair  looking  if  you  likes  'em  big  an'  mushy. 
[Rising  and  striking  an  attitude.]  Most  wimmen  I've 
knowed  preferred  'em  small  an'  jaunty. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Ye'd   better  keep  them  complimentary 
remarks  to  yerself.    He's  your  new  boss. 
NORA.  Is  that  Mr.  Crawford? 
MRS.  O'BRIEN.  None  else. 
THE  DUKE.  'Oo's  'e? 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  He's  Mr.  Mallory's  new  partner,  an'  see 
you  don't  be  makin'  O'Brien  blush  fer  yees. 

[The  outside  door  opens  to  admit  PATRICK  O'BRIEN. 
He  is  in  the  sixties,  spare  of  figure,  with  a  kindly  hu 
morous  face.  He  is  in  corduroys.  Before  going  to 
the  table  he  hangs  up  his  cap. 

O'BRIEN.  Still  at  it,  are  ye?  It's  lucky  I'm  here,  or  it's 
no  breakfast  I'd  be  havin'. 

THE  DUKE.  The  'ash  is  uncommon  fine,  sir.  Could  I 
trouble  you,  Mrs.  O'Brien? 

[He  holds  out  his  plate.    O'BRIEN  takes  it  from  him 

and  lays  it  on  the  table. 

O'BRIEN.  You've  had  enough.     Off  with  the  lot  of  ye. 
MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Oh,  Patrick,  lave  the  poor  darlin's  have 
their  fill! 

O'BRIEN.  All  right.     Oh,  mother,  Danny  and  Mr.  Craw- 


ACT  i]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  21 

ford's  goin'  to  stop  on  their  way  back  from  the  stables  for 
a  cup  of  your  coffee. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Indignantly.]  It's  a  wonder  you 
wouldn't  say  so.  Skedaddle,  the  lot  of  ye.  Do  you  want 
to  be  eatin'  all  day? 

[The  boys  grab  their  caps  and  run  out.  NORA,  unob 
served,  darts  into  the  hall  and  runs  upstairs.  MRS. 
O'BRIEN  bustling  about  placing  chairs  against  the 
wall  approaches  O'BRIEN,  who  has  just  sat  down  to 
eat  his  breakfast. 

O'BRIEN.  Oh,  wife 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Don't  be  talkin',  Patrick.  Take  your 
plate  in  your  lap.  [O'BRIEN  does  so  meekly.]  It's  a 
fresh  place  I  must  be  layin'  for  Mr.  Crawford.  [Calling.] 
Nora^  No-ra.  She's  primpin'  agen. 

[She  gets  the  coffee  mill. 
O'BRIEN.  Lave  her  be.    Don't  be  naggin'  her. 
MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Coming  to  him.]  When  I  need  your  ad 
vice  about  me  own  child  I'll  ask  for  it.     Give  this  a  twist 
while  yer  idlin'. 

[She  hands  him  the  coffee  mill.  O'BRIEN  is  indig 
nant.  He  has  not  had  a  chance  to  have  a  mouthful 
of  food. 

O'BRIEN.  Where's  Nora?  [Calling.]  Nora — come  here 
an'  help  your  mother. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Lave  the  child  alone.  It's  the  queer 
girl  she'd  be,  if  she  didn't  want  to  spruce  up  a  bit  when 
a  strange  young  man  comes  callin'. 

[NORA  comes  in. 
NORA.  [Peevishly.]  Well,  what  do  you  want  now? 

[O'BRIEN  offers  the  mill  to  NORA. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Grind  that  coffee  yourself,  Patrick.     [To 
NORA.]    I  want  you  to  lay  a  fresh  place  for  Mr.  Crawford. 
[NORA  and  MRS.  O'BRIEN  begin  to  remove  the  break 
fast  dishes.    O'BRIEN  sits  grinding  the  coffee. 
NORA.  [Sulkily. ]  More  work. 
MRS.  O'BRIEN.  "More  work!"    An'  why  not?     You're 


22  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  i 

a  workin'  man's  daughter.     Don't  I  work?     Don't  your 
sister  work?     Poor  girl! 

NORA.  Poor  girl!     I'd  like  to  trade  places  with  her. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Oh,  you  would,  would  you?  An'  who's 
goin'  to  give  you  a  job  on  the  stage?  Sure,  you  can't  sing 
nor  dance  like  Patricia?  You're  the  spit  of  your  father. 
[Proudly.]  It's  me  Pat  takes  after. 

NORA.  I'm  lots  prettier  than  she  is. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Mockingly.]  You  an'  your  father  set- 
tin'  up  to  be  the  beauties  of  the  family. 

NORA.  Pat  says  if  she  had  my  face  she'd  have  every 
soubrette  on  Broadway  beat  a  mile.  I  don't  think  it's  fair 
to  expect  me  to  spend  my  life  waiting  hand  and  foot  on 
a  lot  of  stable  boys,  an'  Pat  having  all  the  clothes  she  wants 
and  off  enjoying  herself. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Ain't  she  always  sendin'  you  things? 

NORA.  [Scornfully.]  Cast-offs! 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  You  ungrateful  girl.  An'  do  you  call 
gallivantin'  all  over  the  country  with  the  "Moonlight 
Maids"  enjoyment? 

NORA.  I'd  like  to  try  it  for  a  change.  An'  if  I  have  to 
earn  my  living 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  What  talk  have  ye?  What's  this  about 
earnin'  a  livin'? 

[She  looks  with  suspicion  at  O'BRIEN,  who  is  confused. 

NORA.  Daddy  said  I'd  soon  have  need  to  be  thinking 
of  it. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Oh,  he  did,  did  he?  Let  him  pay  at 
tention  to  his  horses,  I'll  run  me  children.  Nora,  get  the 
butter.  [NoRA  goes.]  It's  you  that  spoilin'  her,  puttin' 
this  nonsense  in  her  head  about  goin'  on  the  stage. 

[She  jerks  the  coffee  mill  out  of  his  hand. 

O'BRIEN.  [Rising.]  Oh,  the  idea's  not  a  bad  on.  It's 
good  money  Pat's  earnin'. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  I  misdoubt  Nora's  knowin'  how. 

O'BRIEN.  What  talk  have  you?  Sure,  actin's  no  trick 
at  all.  I've  seen  babies  do  it. 


ACT  i]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  23 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Sitting.]  Sure  it's  glib  ye  are  to  have 
them  leave  me.  [Crying.]  No  one  thinks  of  a  mother's 
heart.  Me  baby's  goin'  away  from  me. 

O'BRIEN.  [Going  to  her.]  Whist,  woman,  whist,  she, 
ain't  gone  yet! 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Wailing.]  But  she  will. 

O'BRIEN.  [Annoyed.]  Whist!  Sure,  Mr.  Crawford'll 
be  here  any  minute.  I  don't  want  him  to  think  I've  been 
abusin'  ye. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Curiosity  getting  the  better  of  grief.] 
What  sort  is  this  Crawford? 

O'BRIEN.  I've  took  a  dislike  to  him. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Then  God  preserve  us  all.  Ye'll  glory 
in  showin'  it. 

O'BRIEN.  I'm  learnin'  diplomacy. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  It's  high  time.  Use  a  bit  of  it  now  and 
then.  Was  it  you  invited  him  over? 

MR.  O'BRIEN.  It  was  not.  He's  comin'  for  a  cup  of 
coffee  to  take  the  chill  off. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Proudly.]  I  suppose  you  was  braggin' 
about  me  coffee. 

O'BRIEN.  I  was  not. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Angrily.]  An'  why  not?  You  might 
know  you'd  never  say  a  good  word  for  a  body. 

O'BRIEN.  It  was  Mallory. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Smiling.]  My  boy,  Dan,  bless  his  heart. 
[Steps  are  heard  outside.]  That's  Crawford.  Now  smile, 
though  you  could  choke  him. 

[DiCK  CRAWFORD  appears  at  the  door.  He  is  a  hand 
some  man  of  thirty-five,  and  has  great  charm  of  man 
ner,  but  is  rather  a  "bounder"  and  somewhat 
tf  sporty"  in  attire.  O'BRIEN  greets  him. 

O'BRIEN.  Come  right  in,  sir,  an'  welcome.  Wife,  this  is 
Mr.  Crawford. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  'Tis  an  honour  to  know  you.  Where's 
Danny  boy? 

O'BRIEN.  She  means  Mallory.     'Tis  foolish  she  is  about 


24  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  i 

him.     [NORA  enters.]     Mr.  Crawford,  this  is  my  daughter. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Smiling.']  She's  the  baby. 

NORA.  [Embarrassed.]  Oh,  mother.  [To  CRAWFORD.] 
Where  is  Dan? 

CRAWFORD.  He  was  detained  at  the  stable. 

O'BRIEN.  Nora,  take  Mr.  Crawford's  coat.  [NoRA  hangs 
it  up.]  Draw  up  your  chair,  Mr.  Crawford.  Wife,  pour  the 
coffee. 

CRAWFORD.  I'm  afraid  you've  been  put  to  a  lot  of 
trouble,  Mrs.  O'Brien. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Sure,  I  like  to  fuss  for  any  man  that  ap 
preciates  it. 

[She  looks  meaningly  at  O'BRIEN,  who  smiles  sarcas 
tically  at  her. 

CRAWFORD.  Mallory  will  be  right  along. 

[He  politely  passes  the  cup  MRS.  O'BRIEN  has  fitted 
to  O'BRIEN  who  is  seated  at  the  table. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Keep  that.     O'Brien's  had  his  breakfast. 

CRAWFORD.  Oh,  you've  breakfasted,  O'Brien? 

O'BRIEN.  So  she  says. 

CRAWFORD.  [Politely.]  Is  this  all  of  your  family,  Mrs. 
O'Brien? 

NORA.  Oh,  no,  there's  Pat. 

CRAWFORD.  Oh,  a  son. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  No,  it's  her  sister  Patricia.  Nora,  run 
an'  get  her  photograph  for  the  gentleman.  Get  the  one 
in  costume. 

NORA.  [Going  to  the  door  to  the  hall.]  Where  is  it? 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  It's  in  the  lower  drawer.  Lift  up  the 
waist  of  my  black  silk.  It's  wrapped  in  the  Paisley  shawl. 

O'BRIEN.  And,  Nora,  look  in  me  hat  box,  you'll  find  a 
couple. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Father,  the  man '11  think  you're  daft. 
Sure,  one's  enough. 

CRAWFORD.  Not  at  all.    I'm  very  much  interested. 

MRS.   O'BRIEN.  All   right,   Nora.     [NORA  goes.]     Pat- 


ACT  i]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  25 

rick,  you  may  as  well  step  into  the  parlour  and  bring  the 
crayon  enlargement. 

[O'BRIEN,  delighted,  follows  NORA. 
CRAWFORD.  Pat  is  rather  an  odd  name  for  a  girl. 
MRS.  O'BRIEN.  She's  named  for  Patrick. 
CRAWFORD.  Oh,  I  see,  a  sort  of  a  substitute  for  a  son? 
MRS.  O'BRIEN.  A  substitute,  is  it?     Sure,   I  wouldn't 
take  a  half  a  dozen  of  the  lovin'  sons  me  friends  has  for 
the  likes  of  Pat. 

[NORA  enters,  with  the  photographs  wrapped  in  tissue 
paper.  She  gives  them  to  MRS.  O'BRIEN.  O'BRIEN 
follows  with  the  crayon  enlargement,  which  he  dis 
plays  proudly  in  all  lights  and  positions.  It  is  a 
fearful  a-ffair.  CRAWFORD  looks  at  it,  starts  to  laugh. 
They  look  at  him.  He  coughs. 

CRAWFORD.  [Quickly.]  She  must  be  a  very  pretty  girl. 
O'BRIEN.  [Proudly]  I've  seen  homelier. 

[He  moves  the  picture  into  what  he  thinks  is  a  better 

position. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Don't  be  squidgin'  it  an'  bobbin'  it.  You 
fair  dazzle  one.  [Critically]  It's  a  rale  deceivin'  thing. 
When  she's  away  from  me  I  think  it's  the  livin'  image  of 

her,  but  when  she's  alongside,  I 

CRAWFORD.  It's  the  difference  in  the  colouring. 
NORA.  Pat  says  it  gives  her  the  "Willies." 
MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Proudly]  It's  real  plush  on  the  frame. 
[O'BRIEN  smooths  it]     Don't  be  rumplin'  it.    You'd  bet 
ter  put  it  down  before  you  break  the  glass. 

[He  puts  it  down.     CRAWFORD  looks  at  the  photo 
graphs  which  MRS.  O'BRIEN  has  given  him. 
CRAWFORD.  Oh,  taken  in  fancy  costume. 
MRS.  O'BRIEN.  No,  them's  her  workin'  clothes. 

[CRAWFORD  looks  at  O'BRIEN  inquiringly. 
NORA.  Pat's  on  the  stage. 
CRAWFORD.  Oh,  an  actress. 

O'BRIEN.  [Very  proudly]  Oh,  not  at  all.  She's  a  Queen 
of  Burlesque. 


26  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  i 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Impressively.]  With  the  "Moonlight 
Maids." 

NORA.  Perhaps  you've  heard  of  them? 

CRAWFORD.  [Lying.]  Oh,  yes,  yes,  a  very  fine  com 
pany,  lots  of  clever  people. 

O'BRIEN.  They  pays  Pat  twenty  a  week. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  An1  her  costumes. 

CRAWFORD.  [Examining  the  photographs.]  Oh,  they 
won't  amount  to  much. 

[The  O'BRIEN  family  puzzled,  look  at  one  another. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  I've  seen  few  grand  ladies  with  finer  silks 
on  their  backs. 

O'BRIEN.     Sure  the  stockings  are  all  silk  and  that  long. 
[He  indicates  their  length.     MRS.  O'BRIEN,  shocked, 
reproves  him. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Patrick!  take  the  crayon  into  the  par 
lour.  Put  it  back  on  the  aisel,  an'  be  sure  you  put  the 
cloth  over  it. 

[O'BRIEN  goes,  carrying  the  picture  carefully.    JAKEY 
rushes  in  with  a  telegram. 

JAKEY.  A  telegram  for  Mrs.  O'Brien. 

[He  gives  it  to  MRS.  O'BRIEN  and  goes. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  A  telegram.  [She  holds  it  in  her  handf 
looks  at  it,  turns  it  over,  then  without  opening  it,  clasps  it 
to  her  breast  and  begins  to  wail.]  She's  killed!  She's 
killed!  Oh,  the  black  day  I  let  me  Pat  go  trapsin'  all  over 
the  country. 

O'BRIEN.  [Running  in  excitedly.]  What  ails  ye? 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  I  have  a  telegram,  a  telegram.  She's 
killed!  She's  killed! 

CRAWFORD.  Wouldn't  it  be  as  well  to  open  it? 

O'BRIEN.  [Grabbing  it.]  Woman,  give  it  to  me. 

[He  opens  it. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Grabbing  it.]  How  dare  ye  be  open- 
in'  a  telegram  addressed  to  me? 

NORA.  Oh!     Is  she  alive? 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Praise  be.     She  is.     It's  signed  "Pat." 


ACT  i]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  27 

NORA.  What  does  she  say? 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Reading.]  "Show's  on  the  pazaz, 
comin'  on  the  7:06.  Me  for  home  and  mother.  Pat." 
[Turning  upon  O'BRIEN.]  Wake  up,  Patrick  O'Brien. 
Half  past  seven  an'  your  poor  child  waitin'  in  a  cold  daypo, 
an'  you  standin'  there  like  the  ninny  ye  are. 

O'BRIEN.  [Wildly  excited.']  Nora,  where's  me  overcoat? 
Wife,  where's  me  hat?  You'll  excuse  me,  sir,  I  must  go 
hitch  up. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Hold  your  horses.  You'll  go  ask  Danny 
to  meet  her.  It's  dyin'  glad  o'  the  chance  he'll  be.  I've 
use  for  you  here. 

O'BRIEN.  [Indignantly.]  And  what '11  Nora  be  doin'? 

MRS.   O'BRIEN.  Nora'll   be  entertainin'   Mr.    Crawford. 

[She  rises. 

CRAWFORD.  Oh,  you  mustn't  let  me  interfere. 

[He  rises. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  It's  a  man's  work. 

O'BRIEN.  [Very  sulkily.]  What  work? 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  If  you  must  compel  me  to  reveal  the  se 
crets  of  the  home,  the  spare  room  bed's  to  be  put  up. 

O'BRIEN.  I'll  go  tell  Mallory. 

NORA.  Tell  him  to  hurry  here. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  He'll  do  that,  never  fear.  Tell  him  to 
hurry  back. 

[O'BRIEN  gets  his  cap  and  goes. 

CRAWFORD.  I  fear  I  am  in  the  way. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Not  at  all,  Mr.  Crawford.  Stop  an'  have 
a  bit  chat  with  Nora.  She'll  have  the  chance  to  say  a  word 
for  herself  now  her  mother's  lavin'  the  room. 

[She  goes.    NORA  begins  to  "dear"  the  table. 

CRAWFORD.  So  it's  your  sister  and  Mallory,  eh?  I  must 
congratulate  him. 

NORA.  Isn't  Dan  nice?  He'll  make  such  a  good  husband, 
and  Mom  says,  good  husbands  are  awful  scarce. 

CRAWFORD.  I  wouldn't  worry  about  that,  if  I  were  you. 

NORA.  I'm  not.    I'm  goin'  on  the  stage. 


28  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  i 

CRAWFORD.  [Satirically.]  It's  not  a  bad  place  to  get  hus 
bands  these  days. 

NORA.  I'm  not  going  on  the  stage  to  get  married. 

CRAWFORD.  [Amused.}  Oh,  I  see,  for  fame. 

NORA.  No,  indeed.  For  twenty  dollars  a  week.  Just 
think  of  all  the  pretty  clothes  you  could  buy  for  that. 

CRAWFORD.  Can  you?    I  wish  I  had  known  it. 

NORA.  Pat  says  I  ought  to  stay  at  home,  that  I  don't 
know  when  I'm  well  off. 

CRAWFORD.  I  fear  that  I  agree  with  Pat. 

[NORA  begins  to  fold  the  tablecloth.  CRAWFORD  goes 
to  her  to  help  her. 

NORA.  That's  all  very  well,  but  how'd  you  like  to  wear 
your  sister's  old  dresses? 

CRAWFORD.  I  don't  think  I  would  like  it. 

NORA.  There,  you  see,  Pat  or  no  Pat,  I'm  going  to  New 
York. 

CRAWFORD.  You  might  not  like  it. 

NORA.  Not  like  New  York!  The  idea!  Why  even  Pat, 
who  loves  the  country,  says  New  York's  the  one  best  bet. 

CRAWFORD.  It's  a  pretty  good  little  town.  [Meaningly.'] 
Yet  I  haven't  enjoyed  myself  so  much  in  a  long  while  as  I 
did  this  morning. 

[He  advances  with  the  cloth  and  as  he  hands  it  to 
NORA,  takes  her  hands  in  his.  NORA,  embarrassed, 
shyly  moves  away  from  him. 

NORA.  Did  you  see  all  the  horses?  Which  one  did  you 
like  most? 

CRAWFORD.  They're  a  fine  string.  Still,  I  think  Lady 
Belle  took  my  eye. 

NORA.  Isn't  she  a  little  beauty?  I  love  her,  but  she 
doesn't  get  any  sugar  from  me  this  morning. 

CRAWFORD.  No?    Why  not? 

NORA.  Because  she  lost  me  five  dollars  to  the  Duke. 

CRAWFORD.  Oh,  the  little  English  boy!    Do  you  bet? 

NORA.  [Impulsively.]  I  love  to.  But  I  shouldn't  have 
told  you  that. 


ACT  i]  THE  CHOR.US  LADY  29 

CRAWFORD.  Why  not? 

NORA.  It  might  hurt  father  in  your  eyes. 

CRAWFORD.  How? 

NORA.  He  thinks  it  dishonourable  for  any  of  us,  he  being 
a  trainer,  to  put  money  on  a  horse.  I  don't  know  what  he'd 
do  if  he  found  out  I'd  disobeyed  him  again. 

CRAWFORD.  I  won't  tell  him. 

NORA.  But  the  Duke  will,  if  I  don't  pay  him.  I  don't 
know  what  I'm  going  to  do. 

CRAWFORD.  Let  me  lend  it  to  you? 

NORA.  Oh,  Mr.  Crawford.  I  wasn't  hinting.  I  couldn't 
think  of  taking  money  from  you.  What  would  father  say 
if  he  found  out? 

CRAWFORD.  He  needn't  know. 

NORA.  [Hesitatingly.]  You're  a  stranger. 

CRAWFORD.  Surely,  as  I  am  to  be  Mallory's  partner,  I  am 
also  going  to  be  a  friend  of  the  family. 

NORA.  Yes,  of  course,  I  suppose  so.  You  aren't  quite  a 
stranger.  I  hate  to  tell  father  or  Pat.  You're  sure  it  would 
be  all  right  for  a  girl  to  borrow  money  from  a  gentleman? 

CRAWFORD.  Certainly. 

NORA.  Of  course  I  would  pay  you  back. 

CRAWFORD.  Don't  let  that  worry  you. 

[He  takes  a  roll  of   bills  from  his  pocket.     MRS. 
O'BRIEN'S  voice  is  heard  outside. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Nora! 

NORA.  Oh,  don't  let  her  see. 

[MRS.  O'BRIEN  enters. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  You'll  have  to  dust  the  parlour.  Oh,  Mr. 
Crawford,  I  thought 

CRAWFORD.  [Putting  the  money  in  his  pocket.]  You 
thought  I  was  gone.  I'm  just  going. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Sure,  I'm  not  meanin'  to  drive  you  away. 
You'll  come  back  later.  It's  proud  I'd  be  to  introduce  you 
to  Pat. 

CRAWFORD.  I  shall  be  delighted  to  come  back.  Good-bye 
for  the  present. 


30  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  i 

[He  smiles  at  NORA  as  he  goes.    NORA  gets  the  duster 

and  starts  to  leave  the  room. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Eagerly.}  What  was  he  sayin'  to  you? 
NORA.   Oh,  nothing  much. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Sure,  he  was  a  long  time  sayin'  it.    What 
were  you  talkin'  about? 
NORA.  Pat  and  the  horses. 
MRS.  O'BRIEN.  What  about  them? 
NORA.  [Impatiently.']  Oh,  nothing  much. 

[She  goes. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Annoyed.]  Nora,  it's  maddenin'  ye  are. 
Here  I  am  starvin'  for  a  bit  of  news  and  the  best  I  get  is 
"nothin'  much." 

[Grumbling,  she  follows  NORA  into  the  hall,  closing 
the  door.  There  is  a  slight  pause,  then  a  voice  is 
heard  outside  calUng  "Oohoo"  In  a  moment  it  is 
repeated  and  a  figure  is  seen  to  pass  the  window. 
The  door  is  thrown  open  and  PATRICIA  O'BRIEN 
enters.  She  is  vivid,  magnetic  and,  unmistakably,  the 
"seasoned"  chorus  girl.  Perched  on  an  elaborate 
coiffure  of  bleached  blonde  hair  is  a  large  picture 
hat.  She  wears  a  short,  tightly-fitting  coat  of  tan 
cloth  and  a  trailing  skirt  of  black  satin.  Around  her 
throat  and  tied  in  a  flaring  bow  is  a  scarf  of  pink 
tulle.  She  carries  a  dress  suit  case  and  an  umbrella. 
She  looks  about  the  empty  room  and  her  expression 
of  happy  anticipation  gives  place  to  one  oj  disap 
pointed  annoyance. 

PAT.  Well,  wouldn't  this  frost  you?  Me  havin'  to  beat  it 
all  the  way  from  the  daypo'  an'  then  not  a  soul  to  hand 
me  the  welcome  mit.  I  usta  think  I  was  the  big  screech  in 
this  family  but  looks  like  I'm  the  false  alarm.  [She  goes 
to  the  door  at  the  left  and  throws  it  open.]  Mom! 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Upstairs.]  Nora,  'tis  Pat,  'tis  Pat. 
Hurry,  Nora. 

PAT.  [WitheringlyJ]  Don't  hurry  on  my  account. 

[She  assumes  a  manner  oj  spurious  elegance  and  moves 


ACT  i]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  31 

away  with  a  "stagey"  air  of  tragic  dignity,  as  MRS. 
O'BRIEN  enters. 
MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Oh,  Pat,  me  darlin',  me  darlin'. 

[She  throws  her  arms  around  PAT,  who  submits  to  the 

embrace. 
NORA.  [Running  in.]  Pat,  dear,  I'm  so  glad. 

[She  kisses  her. 

PAT.  [Half  crying.']  Someone  might  'a'  met  me. 
NORA.  Wasn't  there  anyone  at  the  train? 
MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Where  was  Danny? 
PAT.  Don't  speak  his  name.     Didn't  you  get  my  wire 
sayin'  as  I'd  be  here  on  the  seven  six? 

NORA.  Yes,  but  it  wasn't  delivered  until  half-past  seven 
this  morning. 

PAT.  Half-past  seven?    Wouldn't  that  scald  you? 
MRS.  O'BRIEN.  An'  Danny  rushed  right  away  for  the 
train.    He  musta  missed  you. 

PAT.  Looks  that  way.  [Smiling.']  I'm  sorry  I  was  so 
grouchy,  but  I'm  so  temperamental. 

[She  removes  her  hat  and  coat.     NORA  takes  them. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN  goes  to  her. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  There,  there,  Pat.  I  don't  blame  ye. 
Sure,  'twas  a  cold  welcome  ye  had  from  yer  loved  ones! 

[PAT  smiles  and  kisses  her. 

PAT.  I  had  it  all  framed  up.  Me  descendin'  from  the 
caboose  an'  fallin'  on  everybody's  neck,  an'  wen  I  got  off 
the  train  the  only  neck  in  sight  belongs  to  that  village  cut- 
up  as  propels  the  hack. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  'Twas  a  black  shame. 
PAT.  Wait!  The  worst  is  yet  to  come.  I'd  .been  handin' 
it  out  all  season  to  that  bunch  of  frails  in  the  company 
about  my  finance  as  owned  a  racin'  stable  an'  'at  I  wired 
him  to  meet  me.  An'  wen  that  rabbit-faced  hackman  comes 
up  and  hands  out  his  mit  to  me — well,  never  to  my  dyin' 
day  will  I  forget  the  way  that  bunch  of  burlesquers  hands 
me  the  merry  "ha,  ha!" 


32  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  i 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Ye  poor  lamb! 

[She  sits. 

PAT.  Where's  Pop? 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Nora,  go  find  your  father. 

[NORA  goes.    PAT  comes  down  to  her  mother  and  put 
ting  her  arms  around  her,  kisses  her. 

PAT.  Gee,  it's  good  to  get  home  again. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Patsy,  dear,  it's  your  mother  that  misses 
you  sorely. 

PAT.  [Imitating  her  mother's  brogue.]  Sure,  I'll  soon  be 
Mrs.  Mallory  an'  won't  be  lavin'  you  at  all,  at  all. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  You'll  be  havin'  to  wait  a  while. 

PAT.  Wait  a  while? 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Hasn't  Danny  told  you? 

PAT.  Told  what? 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  He's  had  to  take  a  partner. 

PAT.  I  knew  he  got  bumped  bad  at  Sheepshead,  but  he 
never  told  me  nothin'  about  a  partner.  Who  is  he? 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Mr.  Crawford.  Your  father  says  Danny'll 
get  little  out  of  the  stable  but  his  board  and  keep. 

PAT.  Ain't  that  punk  luck? 

[NoRA  runs  on,  followed  by  O'BRIEN. 

O'BRIEN.  .Hello,  Pat. 

PAT.  [Rushing  to  him.]  Hello,  Pop.  [She  throws  her 
arms  around  him,  then  holds  him  away  from  her,  looking  at 
him.]  Say,  Mom,  he's  gettin'  fat. 

O'BRIEN.   You're  lookin'  fine,  girl. 

PAT.  I  feel  immense. 

[She  sits.     The  others  cluster  around  her  to  hear  the 
news. 

O'BRIEN.  What  happened  to  your  show? 

PAT.  The  financial  party  as  was  back  a  the  "Moonlight 
Maids"  got  chilblains. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Poor  creature,  where  did  he  catch  them? 

PAT.  In  the  box-office. 

O'BRIEN.  [Laughing.]  She  had  you  there,  mother. 


ACT  i]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  S3 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Wasn't  the  play  comical? 

PAT.  I  never  noticed  anyone  laff  themselves  to  death. 
The  comedians  was  a  couple  of  morgues.  The  best  joke  in 
the  show  was  the  star,  one  of  them  hand-made  blondes. 
She  was  in  the  original  "Black  Crook"  company  an'  she  had 
a  daughter  at  school  then.  I  called  the  toin  on  the  show  at 
rehoisal,  but  the  manager  was  one  a  them  bull-headed  guys 
that  knowed  it  all. 

NORA.  Was  that  all  there  was  in  the  company? 

PAT.  No,  there  was  a  couple  o'  song-and-dance  kikes,  a 
team  a  acrobats,  a  troupe  a  moth-eaten  dogs,  an'  a  chorus 
that  looked  like  the  Chamber-maids'  Union. 

NORA.  Wasn't  the  scenery  nice? 

PAT.  [Patronisingly.]  Yes,  the  scenery  was  nice,  an'  I 
made  a  great  personal  success.  I  had  three  lines  in  the 
after  piece. 

O'BRIEN.  What  are  you  goin'  to  do? 

PAT.  I  gotta  get  back  to  New  York  tomorrow. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Oh!  Pat,  lavin'  me  so  soon?  Can't  you 
stop  a  bit? 

PAT.  Mom,  I  can't  keep  men  like  Henry  W.  Savage  an' 
Klaw  &  Erlanger  waitin'  to  know  what  I'm  goin'  to  do. 

NORA.  Will  you  play  a  part  in  the  play? 

PAT.  That  depends  on  the  part.  Like  as  not  I'll  just  go 
back  in  the  chorus.  What's  the  use  a  bein'  ambitious?  Only 
makes  you  uncomfortable  in  your  mind.  I've  thought  some 
a  going  into  vodeville.  I've  a  friend  that's  close  to  B.  F. 
Keith's  stenographer,  an'  he  thought  he  could  book  me  some 
dates.  Maybe  I'll  frame  up  a  sister  act. 

NORA.  [Delighted.]  Oh,  Pat,  a  sister  act.  You're  going 
to  take  me? 

PAT.  Why,  honey  lamb,  you  couldn't  do  a  toin  in  vode 
ville.  The  stage  is  no  place  for  you. 

NORA.  [Furiously.']  You  needn't  think  you're  the  only 
person  in  this  family  that  can  do  anything.  I'll  just  show 
you.  You're  jealous  because  I'm  better  looking  than  you 


34  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  i 

are.    I'll  go  in  the  chorus,  too,  just  to  spite  you,  you  see  if 
I  don't. 

[She  runs  out  of  the  room,  raging. 

PAT.  [Rising.]  Why,  Nora!  Honey  lamb!  [She  turns 
to  her  mother.']  Mom,  you  haven't  been  encouraging  her? 
Pop,  you  won't  let  her  go? 

[O'BRIEN  and  MRS.  O'BRIEN  exchange  guilty  looks. 

O'BRIEN.  She's  got  to  be  thinkin'  of  earnin'  her  livin'. 

PAT.  [Firmly.]  Nix  for  the  stage,  Pop.  She  ain't  wise 
to  takin'  care  of  herself. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  What  d'ye  mean,  Pat? 

PAT.  I  mean  I  don't  want  my  little  sister  in  the  chorus. 

O'BRIEN.  If  it  ain't  fit  for  Nora,  it  ain't  fit  for  you,  an' 
it's  here  you'll  stay. 

PAT.  [To  O'BRIEN.]  The  chorus  is  all  right,  all  right. 
It's  like  every  thin'  else:  it  depends  on  the  kind  of  person 
that  goes  in  it.  [To  MRS.  O'BRIEN.]  An'  she's  so  sweet! 
It  seems  a  shame  she  can't  stay  home  till  she  marries  some 
nice  fella. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Sure  you  done  well. 

PAT.  I'm  different.  I'm  wise.  I  can  tell  the  goods  from 
the  phoney  every  time. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Going  to  PAT.]  Couldn't  you  teach 
Nora? 

PAT.  I'd  just  as  lief  she  wouldn't  learn. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Ah,  Pat,  me  darlin',  you're  forgettin'.  It's 
a  lesson  women  must  learn,  somehow,  somewhere.  Better 
you  nor  someone  else  to  stand  by  an'  watch  she  ain't 
harmed. 

PAT.  That's  right.  [A  noise  of  a  cart  is  heard  approach 
ing.  A  man's  voice  calls  to  the  horse,  "Whoa,  girl."]  I've 
a  hunch  that's  Dan.  Skidoo,  Pop.  [She  kisses  him  and 
shoves  him  to  the  door.  O'BRIEN  goes.]  That  goes  for  you, 
Mom.  Guess  I  don't  need  no  chaperoney. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Sure,  I'd  trust  you  anywhere.  Ain't  you 
good  as  gold? 

PAT.  Gee,  Mom,  you're  there  strong  with  the  blarney. 


ACT  i]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  35 

[MRS.  O'BRIEN  goes.    PAT  runs  across  to  the  mirror, 

fixes  her  hair. 

DAN.  [Outside.']  Where  is  she? 
O'BRIEN.  [Outside.']  In  there. 

[DAN    MALLORY,    a   splendid   specimen   of   out-door 
manhood,  rushes  in  and  before  PAT  can  say  a  word 
he  has  her  in  his  arms,  kissing  her. 
PAT.  Say,  do  you  know  you're  takin'  my  breath  away? 
DAN.  Am  I? 
PAT.  I'm  supposed  to  have  a  mad  at  you. 

[She  moves  away. 
DAN.  [Following  herJ]  Are  you? 

[He  takes  her  in  his  arms  again.    She  snuggles  against 

him,  her  head  on  his  shoulder. 

PAT.  [Sighing.']  After  seventeen  weeks  a  tourin'  imita 
tion  towns,  this  is  certainly  peach  preserves. 

DAN.  [Tenderly.}  To  me  you're  the  only  girl  in  the 
whole  damned  universe. 

PAT.  [Looking  at  him  proudly.]  When  I  think  a  the  men 
I  see  other  women  stacked  up  against,  you  win,  easy. 

DAN.  I  never  saw  anythin'  that  was  in  your  class,  Patsy. 
You  look  like  a  four-time  winner  yourself. 
PAT.  Honest? 

[She  goes  to  the  mirror. 
DAN.  You're  prettier  than  ever. 

PAT.  I  do  think  this  way  a  wearin'  my  hair  is  becomin'. 
DAN.  Becomin'!   It's  beautiful.  You're  beautiful.  Every 
thing  about  you's  beautiful. 

PAT.   Say,  ain't  you  afraid  a  gettin'  pinched  for  peddlin' 
hot  air  without  a  license? 

DAN.  You  don't  know  how  I  missed  you. 
PAT.  Don't  I?     You  missed  me  this  mornin',  good  an7 
plenty. 

DAN.  That  was  too  bad.     How  long  are  you  going  to 
stay? 

PAT.  I  must  hump  back  to  the  real  puddle  tomorrow. 
DAN.  Tomorrow!     Why? 


36  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  i 

PAT.  To  connect.  The  "Moonlight  Maids"  goes  into  cold 
storage. 

DAN.  So  I  gathered.    Seems  to  be  a  bad  season  for  shows. 

PAT.  [Sagely.]  It's  always  a  bad  season  for  bad  shows 
with  bum  backin'.  This  everlastin'  huntin'  a  job  gets  on 
my  nerves.  I'm  tired  missin'  you,  Dan,  only  seein'  you  once 
in  a  dog's  age. 

DAN.  [Going  to  her.]  Pat,  I  can't  have  you  go.  Marry 
me  now.  We'll  get  along,  some  way. 

PAT.  An'  put  a  crimp  in  your  prospects?  I  ain't  such  a 
weak-minded  slob  as  that.  I  was  foolish  to  let  that  rave 
outa  me.  I'm  just  tired. 

DAN.  [Taking  her  in  his  arms.']  It  breaks  me  all  up,  Pat. 
I  know  we  would  make  it  a  go. 

PAT.  Not  by  beginnin'  wrong  on  the  money  proposition. 
[She  goes  to  the  door  to  the  hall,  closes  it.]  Just  how  do  we 
stand?  Mom's  been  hintin',  but  let's  get  down  to  cases. 

[She  sits. 

DAN.  [Sitting.]  It  began  at  Sheepshead.  I  thought  I 
had  a  string  of  good  ones 

PAT.  An'  they  turned  out  skates. 

DAN.  I  didn't  pull  off  a  purse  that  was  more  than  chicken 
feed.  I  had  to  take  in  a  partner,  an'  it  doesn't  look  like  I'll 
earn  more  than  my  keep  for  the  next  six  months. 

PAT.  Where  did  you  dig  up  this  Crawford?  How's  he 
goin'  to  boost  your  game? 

DAN.  He's  lent  me  money  an*  I've  given  him  a  half  in 
terest  in  the  stables.  It  was  a  case  of  take  someone  in,  or 
get  out  myself.  But  we've  some  promisin'  youngsters  that 
ought  to  bring  a  good  price.  Then  I'll  pay  him  up,  or  sell 
out  to  him.  But  I'm  strong  to  quit  this  game.  Me  for  a 
stock  farm. 

PAT.  A  stock  farm?   Where'd  Pop  and  the  folks  get  off? 

DAN.  They'd  come  right  along  with  us. 

PAT.  [Thought/idly.]  Then  we'd  settle  down  like  a  cou 
ple  of  Reubens,  us  an'  the  cows. 

DAN.  [Laughing.]  Not  cows,  horses. 


ACT  i]  THE  CHORJUS  LADY  37 

PAT.  [Regretfully.']  No  more  playin'  dates  at  Sheepshead 
or  New  Orleans? 

[DAN  goes  to  her,  leans  over  the  back  of  her  chair  and 
puts  his  arms  about  her. 

DAN.  No  travel  at  all.    [Tenderly.']    Just  stayin'  home. 

PAT.  [Wistfully.]  "Just  stayin'  home."  Oh,  Dan,  do 
you  s'pose  it  would  last? 

DAN.  Why,  sure. 

PAT.  I  dunno. 

DAN.  [Surprised.]  What? 

PAT.  I've  met  more  than  one  doll  as  has  thrown  a  good 
man  down  hard  just  to  get  back  to  the  bright  lights.  They 
hand  out  a  lot  a  junk  about  love  for  their  art,  when  it's 
nothin'  but  a  hunch  for  the  excitement.  Dan,  I  ain't  no- 
better  than  anyone  else.  I'm  kinda  afraid. 

DAN.  But  I'm  not  afraid.    I  know  you  love  me. 

PAT.  That's  no  idle  dream. 

DAN.  And  that's  what  counts.  Don't  you  go  gettin'  all 
stewed  up. 

PAT.  [Rises.]  I  am  a  little  up-stage  today.  Fm  upset  in 
my  mind. 

DAN.  Anythin'  gone  wrong? 

PAT.  Nora's  thrown  a  scare  into  me. 

DAN.  Nora? 

PAT.  Yes,  she's  got  a  stage  career  all  doped  out  an'  Mom 
and  Pop's  been  lettin'  her  dream.  And  it's  all  dead  wrong. 

DAN.  What's  wrong  about  it? 

PAT.  Every  old  thing.  Say,  don't  tell  me  you've  encour 
aged  her,  too? 

DAN.  O'Brien  asked  my  advice  and  I  didn't  see  anythin* 
to  stop  her. 

PAT.  Well,  you  are  a  lot  of  yaps.  Can't  you  see  she 
ain't  to  be  trusted  outside  the  front  yard?  Not  that  she 
ain't  good  and  sweet,  but  she  ain't  got  any  head.  I  don't 
know  where  she  gets  it,  but  she's  shy  on  knowin'  the  dif 
ference  between  right  an'  wrong. 

DAN.  But  if  she  went  with  you,  Pat? 


38  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  i 

PAT.  But  I  can't  stay  with  her,  Dan;  I'm  comin'  to  you. 

DAN.  Nora's  all  right. 

PAT.  I've  seen  too  many  just  her  kind,  sweet  and  pretty, 
begin  well  an'  end  bad. 

DAN.  If  it's  as  bad  as  that  I'm  not  going  to  have  you  in 
it. 

PAT.  {Indignantly.'}  What  do  you  mean,  Dan  Mallory? 
I  didn't  say  every  girl  was  bad  or  wanted  to  be.  Do  you 
think  I,  oh,  Dan,  that  hurts.  That  hurts. 

[She  moves  away. 

DAN.  [Following  her.]  I'm  sorry,  Pat.  You  know  I  trust 
you,  but  I  get  to  worryin'  for  fear  some  rich  fellow'll  want 
to  marry  you  an' 

PAT.  [Gaily.]  Well,  they  don't.  Though  I'm  a  chump  to 
put  you  next  to  the  fact.  You're  the  only  man  as  wants  me 
an'  you  can't  lose  me,  Mr.  Mallory. 

[She  goes  to  him.    He  kisses  her. 

DAN.  I  guess  we'll  tandem  pretty  well.  Crawford  will 
wonder  what's  become  of  me. 

PAT.  Is  he  down  here? 

DAN.  Yes,  lookin'  the  string  over. 

PAT.  Don't  take  all  day  to  do  it. 

[DAN  leans  over  her  to  get  a  kiss. 

DAN.  [Coaxingly .]  Just  to  keep  me  goin'? 

PAT.  [Dodging  him.]  Nix,  come  back  for  it.  [He  laughs 
and  goes.  PAT  watches  him  from  the  window.]  He's  the 
goods,  all  right,  all  right. 

[NORA  enters. 

NORA.  I'm  awfully  sorry,  Pat. 

PAT.  [Going  to  her.]  Here  too.  I  didn't  mean  to  sit  all 
over  you.  Forgive  me,  won't  you? 

NORA.   And  you'll  take  me  tomorrow? 

PAT.  We'll  see.  We'll  have  a  talk  about  it  all  an'  maybe 
then  you  won't  want  to  go.  Where's  Mom? 

NORA.  In  the  spare  room.  [PAT  goes.  NORA  begins  to 
busy  herself  about  the  kitchen.  There  is  a  knock  at  the 


ACT  i]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  39 

door.    NORA  opens  it  and  CRAWFORD  enters.']     Oh!     Mr. 
Crawford,  you've  come  to  meet  Pat.    I'll  call  her. 

CRAWFORD.  Wait  a  moment.     I  want  to  give  you  that 
loan. 

NORA.  Oh,  no,   thank  you,  Mr.   Crawford.     I've  been 
thinking  it  over  and  it  doesn't  seem  right. 

CRAWFORD.  Has  Pat  helped  you? 

NORA.  No. 

CRAWFORD.  Then  you  still  owe  the  Duke? 

NORA.  Yes. 

CRAWFORD.  Suppose  you  lay  another  wager,  or  let  me  lay 
it  for  you? 

NORA.  But  I  mightn't  win  and  I'd  be  worse  off  than  ever. 

CRAWFORD.  No,  I'll  give  you  a  sure  thing.     I'll  put  up 
five  dollars  and  I  think  I  can  get  four  to  one. 

NORA.    [Delighted.']    I'd    have   twenty   dollars.      [Anx 
iously.]    You're  sure  I  couldn't  lose? 

CRAWFORD.  Positive.    Then  it's  a  go?    I'll  run  down  to 
wards  the  end  of  the  week  and  give  you  the  money. 

NORA.  I  mightn't  be  here.    Maybe  Pat's  going  to  take  me 
to  New  York  tomorrow. 

CRAWFORD.  If  she  does,  come  to  my  office.    If  not,  I'll  be 
here. 

NORA.  It's  too  bad  for  you  to  take  all  that  trouble. 

CRAWFORD.  [Going  to  her.]  I'd  take  more  trouble  than 
that  to  see  you. 

NORA.  [Shyly.']  You're  awful  sweet  about  it. 

CRAWFORD.  So  are  you,  awfully  sweet. 

[He  learn  over  and  kisses  her  as  PAT  enters  unob 
served. 

PAT.  [Sharply.]  Nora! 

NORA.  [Embarrassed.]  Oh,  Pat,  this  is  Mr.  Crawford. 

PAT.  [Frostily.]  Delighted  to  meet  you.    This  your  first 
visit? 

CRAWFORD.  Yes.  [Meaningly.]  But  not  ny  last. 

PAT.  [Insolently.]  That   so?      [She    turns    to    NORA.] 


40  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  i 

Nora,  go  pack  your  trunk.     [NORA  rims  off  delightedly. 
PAT  turns  to  CRAWFORD.]     Won't  you  sit  down? 

[They  sit  facing  each  other  across  the  table  in  mutual 
antagonism  as  the  curtain  jails. 


THE  SECOND  ACT 

A  dressing-room  in  the  Longacre  Theatre.  It  is  arranged 
for  the  accommodation  of  eight  chorus  girls.  On  the 
wall  at  the  left  of  the  room  is  a  sheet  of  mirror  and 
underneath  it  a  shelf  covered  with  the  litter  of  theatrical 
make-up.  At  the  shelf  are  four  chairs.  There  is  a 
similar  arrangement  on  the  right  of  the  room  and  in 
the  centre  of  it  is  a  long  marble  stand  with  wash-basins 
four  to  a  side.  Over  the  mirrors  are  electric-light  fix 
tures  unshaded  and  on  the  rear  wall  are  rows  of  hooks 
for  costumes  and  street  clothes.  At  the  back  of  the 
room  is  a  door  opening  into  a  hall,  across  which  is  a 
door  to  another  dressing-room. 

It  is  a  quarter  before  eight  of  an  April  evening.  MAI  DE- 
LANEY  and  MILLY  SULTZER,  "ponies,"  EVELYN  LARUE, 
RITA  NICHOLS  and  INEZ  BLAIR,  show-girls,  are  in  vari 
ous  stages  of  dress  and  undress,  preparing  for  the  even 
ing  performance;  MAI  is  seated  on  the  floor,  putting  on 
her  slippers,  RITA  adding  a  final  touch  of  rouge, 
INEZ  washing  her  hands,  EVELYN*  apply  ing  a  liquid- 
white  to  her  arms  and  shoulders,  and  Lou  ARCHER, 
another  show-girl,  completely  dressed,  is  seated  with  her 
feet  cocked  up  on  the  wash-stand,  engrossed  in  a  paper- 
covered  novel  and  smoking  a  cigarette.  In  a  corner 
of  the  room,  reading  a  newspaper  which  conceals  her 
face  from  the  spectators,  is  another  girl,  evidently,  from 
what  can  be  seen  of  her  costume,  a  dancer.  There  is  a 
high-pitched  babel  of  conversation,  which  has  followed 
upon  INEZ'S  recital  of  an  adventure  of  the  previous 
evening. 

41 


42  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  n 

MILLY.  What'd  you  say  to  him,  Inez? 
INEZ.  "What  d'you  think  I  am?"  says  I.    "You  beat  it 
before  I  call  my  brother  an'  a  policeman." 
EVELYN.  The  nerve  a'  these  rah-rah-rah  boys! 
RITA.  Ain't  it  the  limit? 
Lou.  Fresh  Ike. 

MAI.  Ain't  he  got  a  crust,  tryin'  to  kiss  a  girl  an'  him 
ain't  got  a  cent  in  the  world! 

MILLY.  [Singing.]  "Would  you  care  if  I  should  leave 

you?    Would " 

RITA.  Not  if  you  took  your  voice  with  you. 

MILLY,  MAI,  EVELYN  and  INEZ.  [Singing.]  "Would  you 

care  if  I  should  leave  you " 

Lou.  Oh,  shut  up!  You  dressin'-room  prima  donnas 
give  me  a  pain. 

[Enter  MRS.  GEORGIE  ADAMS  COOTE,  a  one-time  sou- 
brette,  now  the  wardrobe  "lady"  of  the  Longacre 
Theatre.    She  is  a  jat,  jovial  gossip  in  an  illy  fitting 
skirt  and  crumpled  white  shirtwaist.    From  her  belt 
hangs  a  pair  of  scissors,  a  tape-measure  and  a  pin 
cushion.     She  is  carrying  over  one  arm  a  costume 
which  she  has  been  repairing;  in  one  hand  is  a  pair 
of  slippers,  in  the  other  a  hat,  and  on  her  head  is  a 
large   picture-hat    gaily    coloured    and    elaborately 
trimmed,  looking  sadly  out  of  place  on  her  tousled 
hair  which  was  originally  brown,  then  blonde,  after 
wards  red,  and  is  now  a  mixture  of  all  three  shades 
and  plentifully  streaked  with  grey. 
EVELYN.  Say,  Georgie'd  you  mend  that  waist? 
GEORGIE.  [Crisply.]  I  certainly  did,  Miss  LaRue. 
EVELYN.  Well,  I  hope  it  stays  up.     You  musta  used  a 
red-hot  needle  and  a  burnt  thread  last  time  fer  it  fell  right 
offa  my  shoulders. 

GEORGIE.  Most  a'  your  clothes  seem  to  get  that  habit, 
Miss  LaRue.  You  oughta  leave  somethin'  to  the  'magina- 
tion. 

I  She  has  thrown  the  costume  over  the   back   of  a 


ACT  ii]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  43 

chair  at  the  dressing-table  on  the  left  of  the  room, 
placed  the  slippers  on  another  chair,  and  one  hat  on 
the  shelf,  then  catching  sight  of  her  reflection  in  the 
mirror  has  adjusted  the  one  she  is  wearing  at  a  very 
rakish  angle  and  with  the  aid  of  a  hand-mirror  is 
admiring  the  back  view. 
GEORGIE.  Rita,  seen  Miss  Simpson  tonight? 

RITA.  Ain't  she [Turns  and  sees  her  hat  on  GEORGIE'S 

head.]    Well,  you've  got  your  nerve  with  you,  wearin'  my 
hat! 

[She  snatches  the  hat  off  GEORGIE'S  head.     The  girls 
guy  her  and  GEORGIE  stares  after  her  in  speechless 
indignation  as  RITA  flounces  out  of  the  room  and 
goes  into  the  dressing-room  across  the  hall.     There 
is  a  general  movement.    MAI  rises,  sits  at  the  dress 
ing-table,  paints  her  lips;  EVELYN  adjusts  her  hat, 
MILLY  powders  her  neck,  INEZ  throws  off  her  kimono 
and  gets  her  costume.    GEORGIE  hooks  her  into  it. 
GEORGIE.  Anyone  seen  Miss  Simpson  tonight? 
MILLY.  Ain't  she  in  her  dressin'-room? 
INEZ.  Simpson  don't  go  till  the  second  act. 
MAI.  She'll  be  late  tonight.     She's  being  bridesmaid  to 
Maizie  Jones. 

GEORGIE.  For  goodness'  sake,  Mai,  that  man  ain't  mar 
ried  Maizie? 

MAI.  Looks  that  way. 

GEORGIE.  Ain't  them  saucer-eyed  blondes  wonders? 
Lou.  It's  momma  that's  the  wonder. 
EVELYN.  That's  right,  Lou,  I  tell  you  what  a  mother 
can't  do  for  you  in  this  business. 

GEORGIE.  Anythin'  from  makin'  you  a  star  to  a  Duchess. 
MILLY.  Has  he  money? 
Lou.  He's  from  Pittsburgh. 

GEORGIE.  No  use  cryin'  over  spilt  milk,  but  I  wisht  we'd 
a  played  Pittsburgh  when  I  was  with  Evangeline.  I  usta 
make  a  real  cute  boy. 


44,  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  11 

EVELYN.  You'd  make  about  a  dozen  now. 

[The  girls  laugh. 

GEORGIE.   Serves  me  right  for  wastin'  breath  on  a  lot  a 
chorus  girls. 

EVELYN.  [Coming  to  GEORGIE.]  Looka  here,  don't  go 
callin'  me  a  chorus  girl. 
GEORGIE.  What  are  you? 

EVELYN.  I'm  a  specialty  lady.     I've  been  in  the  front 
row  fer  five  years. 

GEORGIE.  An'  you'll  stay  there  another  ten. 
EVELYN.  You  animated  balloon! 
GEORGIE.  You  red-headed  spear  carrier! 
[They  glare  at  each  other.    INEZ,  between  them,  inter 
feres.    Lou  turns,  sees  them,  rises. 
Lou.  Hands  off,  Blair;  let  'em  scrap  it  out. 
GEORGIE.  [To  EVELYN.]  I'd  hand  you  a  J.am  in  the  map 
if  I  wasn't  a  lady. 

MILLY.  [Rising  and  going  to  them.}  Please  don't.  Every 
body's  always  fightin'. 

INEZ.  The  scraps  in  here  is  certainly  the  limit. 
MILLY.  I'm    goin'    to    ask    to   have   my   dressin'-room 
changed.     Pat  and  Simpson  fights  every  performance,  an' 
now  you  two's  beginnin'.     [Crying.]    My  nerves  is  just  all 
gone  to  the  devil. 
GEORGIE.  Too  bad  about  you. 

CALL  BOY.  [Off.]  Half  hour!  Half  hour!  Half  hour! 
[GEORGIE  stares  pugnaciously  at  EVELYN,  who  looks  at 
her  contemptuously  and  moves  away  with  Lou. 
MILLY  returns  to  her  place  at  the  dressing-table. 
INEZ  puts  her  foot  on  the  cJtair  from  which  Lou 
has  risen  and  ties  her  shoe-string.  MAI  makes  up 
leisurely,  and  RITA,  having  complained  about  GEOR 
GIE  to  the  girls  in  the  other  room,  strolls  in,  her  hat 
on,  and  lolls  in  front  of  her  mirror,  admiring  herself. 
The  figure  reading  the  newspaper  has  paid  no  atten 
tion  to  anyone. 
GEORGIE.  Pat's  late,  too.  Is  she  at  the  weddin'? 


ACT  n]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  45 

INEZ.  She  can't  stand  for  Maizie's  push. 
MILLY.  I  wonder  what  Simpson  wore  at  the  weddin'?    I 
hope  she  comes  straight  here. 

INEZ.  She  won't  lose  any  chance  to  make  a  gallery  play 
to  us. 

[RiTA,  bored,  rises  and  again  pays  a  visit  to  the  other 
dressing-room.     EVELYN    washes   her    hands.    Lou 
joins  MAI.     GEORGIE  sits  in  the  chair  at  the  lower 
end  of  the  dressing-table  beside  MAI  and  begins  to 
mend  the  costume  she  has  brought  in. 
EVELYN.  Talk  about  havin'  coin  in  bundles,  Simpson's 
goin'  to  buy  a  Duke. 

MAI.  She's  awful  aristocratic  in  her  ideas. 
GEORGIE.  Her  mother  used  to  wash  for  the  best  families. 
MILLY.  She  made  it  in  Wall  Street. 
GEORGIE.  Humph! 

Lou.  Milly,  when  it  comes  to  a  stall,  you're  a  tapioca. 
MILLY.  [Proudly.']  She's  goin'  to  give  me  a  tip  in  stocks 
soon  as  I  make  a  lot  a  money  on  the  ponies.     Girls,  don't 
you  wisht  we  knew  who'd  win  tomorrow? 

EVELYN.  I  wouldn't  mind  knowin'  the  name  an'  address 
of  a  horse  that's  goin'  to  win. 

INEZ.  Say,  Nora,  you  don't  know  of  a  hundred- to-one 
shot  that's  due  to  be  uncorked  tomorrow? 

'{The  person  behind  the  newspaper  drops  it  in  her  lap, 

revealing  NORA  in  the  costume  of  a  dancer. 
NORA.  No,  I  wish  I  did. 

[She  rises  and  walks  down  to  the  chair  beside  the  wash- 
stand. 

INEZ.  [Sympathetically.']  Say,  you  look  all  to  the  bad 
tonight.     Kinda  worried?     Can't  you  figure  out  the  dope? 
NORA.  [Sitting  wearily.]  Just  tired,  that's  all. 
INEZ.  Brace  up!    What's  the  one  best  bet  for  tomorrow? 
NORA.  [Reading.]  "First  race,  Sis  Lee,  straight;  Fourth 
race,  Little  Wally  to  show,  the  Veiled  Lady  straight." 
MAI.  [Petulantly.]  I  don't  like  none  a  them  names. 
MILLY.  Veiled  Lady's  kinda  cunnin'. 


46  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  11 

INEZ.  What's  the  entry? 

MILLY.  Inez,  what'd  ye  mean  by  entry? 

INEZ.  [Impatiently.']  I've  told  you  a  million  times.  Go 
on,  Nora. 

NORA.  "Sis  Lee,  Sailor  Boy,  Milady  Love,  King  Leopold, 
Bensonhurst,  Immortelle " 

Lou.  That's  a  dead  one.    What's  the  dope  on  the  race? 

NORA.  [Reading.]  "The  opening  two-year-old  scurry  at 
half  a  mile  shows  a  well-set  field  of  fair  class,  with  Sis  Lee 
the  most  probable  winner,  though  scarcely  the  best  horse  in 
the  race.  In " 

MILLY.  How  can  it  win  if  it  ain't  the  best  horse? 

Lou.  Somebody  gag  her. 

NORA.  [Reading.]  "In  March  she  was  beaten  a  nose  at 
New  Orleans  by  Merrie  Lassie." 

MILLY.  What'd  I  tell  you?  You  can  all  do  as  you  like, 
but  none  a  my  money  on  Miss  Sis  Lee.  D'you  hear,  Nora? 

NORA.  All  right.  [Reading.]  "Sailor  Boy  is  as  good  as 
the  day  he  beat  Follow  On.  Miladi " 

GEORGIE.  I  used  to  make  a  real  cute  Sailor  Boy  in  pale 
blue  tights,  an'  a  dark  blue  blouse  all  trimmed  with  anchors. 
I  remember 

INEZ.   Forget  Evangeline  fer  a  moment,  as  a  favour. 

NORA.  [Reading.]  "Miladi  Love  beat  King  Leopold  last 
summer  and  raced  as  well  as  Bensonhurst.  Hard  thing  to 
get  anything  of  consequence  in  this  division  so  early  in  the 
year." 

INEZ.  Well,  I  should  say  so. 

Lou.  To  hear  him  tell  it,  there  ain't  a  dog  in  the  race. 

NORA.  The  more  you  read  the  less  you  know  about  it. 

MILLY.  I'll  take  Bensonhurst.  I  was  there  once  an'  had 
a  grand  time.  I  wonder  if  it's  a  pretty  horse. 

NORA.  Bensonhurst,  to  win? 

MILLY.  Why,  of  course,  to  win.  You  ask  the  silliest 
questions. 

NORA.  Inez,  give  me  a  piece  of  paper. 

[INEZ  crosses  to  her  place,  looks  for  a  bit  of  paper* 


ACT  n]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  47 

RITA  returns  and  expostulates  with  EVELYN,  who  has, 
in  her  absence,  gone  to  her  place  and  taken  some 
of  her  Up  salve.    MAI  rises  and  goes  to  NORA. 
MAI.    I'm  going  to  pick  'em  the  old  way.     Where's  the 
programme? 

Lou.  Programme?    You're  a  weird  bunch  of  sports. 
MAI.  Smarty !  I  picked  mine  this  way  yesterday  an'  I  was 
the  only  girl  that  won,  wasn't  I,  Nora? 

[She  closes  her  eyes  and  places  her  finger  on  the  racing 

chart  in  the  newspaper. 
NORA.  [Reading.]  "Immortelle." 

MILLY.  Immortelle!  Oh,  Mai,  don't  take  that  one.  Don't 
take  a  creepy  horse. 

Lou.  He  wouldn't  run  one,  two,  six,  in  a  goat  race. 
MAI.  I'll  try  again.    [She  does  so,  then  looks  at  the  place."] 
King  Leopold. 

EVELYN.  [Coming  to   them   excitedly.]  Ain't   that   the 
King  that  liked  chorus  girls? 
Lou.  Me  for  the  King. 
RITA.  Me,  too! 

[MAi,  smiling  complacently,  returns  to  her  dressing- 
table.     RITA  joins  Lou,  then  they  go  to  the  other 
dressing-room.     INEZ  brings  a  pencil  and  sheet  of 
paper  to  NORA,  who  makes  a  memorandum  of  the 
wagers.    GEORGIE  rises,  shakes  out  the  costume  and 
hangs  it  on  a  hook  at  the  rear  of  the  room. 
GEORGIE.  Ain't  anyone  goin'  to  make  a  pool?     I'm  a 
little  sl\ort.     I'll  go  in  with  someone. 

INEZ.  If  you  saved  the  wad  you  blow  on  beer  every  night 

after  the  show 

GEORGIE.  [Indignantly.]  Why,  it  isn't  that  I  like  it. 
It's  the  doctor's  orders.  I  have  to  take  a  quart  or  so  for 
insomnia.  [Going  to  NORA.]  Nora,  could  you  trust  me  for 
seventy-five  cents?  I'd  like  to  split  it  three  ways  on  Sailor 
Boy.  I  s'pose  it's  foolish  to  be  superstitious,  but  it's  a  sure 
hunch.  I  usta  make  a  real  cute  sailor  boy. 


48  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  n 

EVELYN.  We  know,  all  trimmed  with  anchors.    You  may 
find  some  on  Sailor  Boy  at  that. 

[The  girls  laugh. 

GEORGIE.  That's  right.     Sneer  at  a  poor  woman  with  a 
husband  that  ain't  workin'.    Pikers! 

[She  flounces  out  angrily;  the  girls  hoot  after  her. 
INEZ.  Nora,  put  me  down  for  the  usual.    Sis  Lee  across 
the  board. 

MILLY.  What's  across  the  board?    Say,  Inez,  tell  what's 
across  the  board. 

INEZ.  Haven't  time.    The  race  is  called  for  three  tomor 
row. 

MILLY.  I  think  you're  horrid.    It  isn't  fair.    I've  just  as 
much  right  to  play  across  the  board  as  anyone. 

NORA.  All  right,  Bensonhurst  across  the  board.     I'll  get 
the  money  after  the  show. 

Lou.  [Running  on,  followed  by   RITA.]  Nix  with  the 
racing  news.    Somebody's  comin'. 
NORA.  Maybe  it's  Pat. 

[She  throws  the  newspaper  under  the  wash-stand  and 
scurries  to  her  place  beside  MILLY  and  begins  to 
rouge  feverishly.  INEZ  and  RITA  follow  her  and  sit. 
Lou  and  EVELYN  rush  to  sit  at  their  places  beside 
MAI.  All  of  them  begin  to  make  up  and  to  gabble 
of  everything  except  racing. 

VOICE.  [Outside,  in  respectful  tones.]  Good  evening,  Miss 
Simpson. 

Lou.  [Disgusted.]  It's  only  Simpson. 
Miss  SIMPSON.  [Outside,  in  a  drawling  voice.]  I  fear  I'm 
a  trifle  late. 

VOICE.  [Outside.]  Don't  worry;  you  needn't  go  on  till 
the  second  act. 

[The  girls  turn  and  look  at  one  another. 
Miss  SIMPSON.  [Outside.]  So  good  of  you. 
EVELYN.  Always  knew  she  had  money  in  this  show. 
INEZ.  Cinch. 

[SYLVIA  SIMPSON,  a  tall  and  strikingly  handsome  worn-' 


ACT  n]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  49 

an  of  the  "show-girl"  type,  bejewelled  and  gorgeously 
attired,  appears  in  the  doorway,  where  she  poses 
briefly,  to  give  the  girls  who  turn  to  look  at  her  an 
opportunity  to  get  the  jull  effect  of  her  magnificence. 

GIRLS.  Hello,  Simpson. 

SIMPSON.  Hello,  girls.  ( 

[She  saunters  in. 

MAI.  Did  you  have  a  good  time? 

SIMPSON.  [Affectedly.']  Ciel!    Weddings  are  such  a  bore. 

NORA.  Oh,  I  think  they're  lovely. 

SIMPSON.  They're   getting   frightfully   common.     Every 
chorus  girl  you  know  is  getting  married. 

NORA.  [Going  to  her.]  Oh,  what  a  love  of  a  coat! 

SIMPSON.  [Sweeping  across  the  room.]  Do  you  like  it? 

INEZ.  What'd  Maizie  wear? 

SIMPSON.  The  tightest  "Princess"  I  ever  saw. 

EVELYN.  What  else  did  she  have  on? 

SIMPSON.  Not  much  of  anything.    As  for  jewellery •' 

MAI.  Much? 

SIMPSON.  Much?    She  looked  like  a  Tiffany  showcase. 

MILLY.  Just  like  our  Prima  Donna  in  the  last  act. 

SIMPSON.  Yes,  quite  vulgar. 

INEZ.  Was  her  nibs  there? 

SIMPSON.  The  Prima  Donna?    Oh,  dear,  no.    She's  not 
in  our  set. 

[She  removes  her  coat.  The  girls  gasp  at  the  costly 
beauty  of  the  gown  that  is  revealed  as  she  parades 
languidly  across  the  room.  NORA,  who  has  taken 
the  coat,  runs  over  with  it  to  MILLY.  The  other  girls 
cluster  about,  admiring  it;  finally  EVELYN,  at  the 
suggestion  of  INEZ,  puts  it  on. 

EVELYN.  Lots  a  people  there? 

SIMPSON.  Oh,  crowds!     Not  a  bit  classy  or  smart.    I'm 
sure  to  half  of  them  Rector's  is  only  a  name. 

[She  sits. 

Lou.  Many  you  knew? 

SIMPSON.  [Getting  a  cigarette  from  her  case.]  No,  but 


50  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  11 

lots  I  expect  to.  Loads  of  men  introduced  themselves  to  me.' 
Maizie  did  a  real  mean  thing.  She  tried  to  cut  me  out  of 
my  entrance. 

EVELYN,  MAI  and  MILLY.  [Sympathetically .]  The  idea! 

Lou.  That's  an  old  trick  a  hers,  crowdin'  you  on. 

SIMPSON.  I  just  told  her  if  she  thought  I  blowed  in  five 
hundred  dollars  for  this  dress,  just  to  be  a  bridesmaid,  she 
was  good  and  well  mistaken.  I  was  there  to  be  looked  at, 
and  you  bet  I  was. 

NORA.  Did  that  cost  five  hundred  dollars? 

SIMPSON.  It  is  rather  a  roast.  But  it's  a  good  investment. 
You've  got  to  look  well  if  you  want  to  get  any  kind  of  a 
salary  in  this  business.  [!NEZ  giggles.  SIMPSON  turns  upon 
her.]  Did  you  see  anything  humorous  in  that  last  remark? 

INEZ.  No!    I  was  thinkin'  a  somethin'  funny. 

SIMPSON.  If  it's  a  good  joke,  put  us  all  next. 

NORA.  [Trying  to  stop  the  impending  row.]  Miss  Simp 
son,  what  horse  are  you  going  to  play  tomorrow? 

SIMPSON.  [To  NORA.]  I  don't  know.  [Springs  to  her 
feet,  blazing  mad.}  If  anybody  has  anything  to  say  about 
me,  just  speak  right  out,  that's  all.  [She  sees  EVELYN  in 
her  coat.]  Say,  when  you  girls  get  through  wearing  out  that 
coat  I'd  like  what's  left  of  it. 

INEZ.  Take  your  old  coat. 

[She  jerks  the  coat  off  EVELYN  and  throws  it  at  SIMP 
SON.  Then  she,  Lou,  EVELYN  and  RITA,  talking 
viciously  about  SIMPSON,  leave  the  room  and  disap 
pear  in  the  direction  of  the  stage.  MILLY  gets  her 
costume  and  MAI  helps  her  to  adjust  it.  SIMPSON 
places  her  coat  on  a  chair,  then  sits  and  lights  another 
cigarette. 

SIMPSON.  Got  anything  good,  Nora? 

NORA.  Here's  the  entry. 

SIMPSON.  Don't  bother  me  with  the  entry.  Hasn't  that 
friend  of  yours  tipped  you  off  to  anything? 

NORA.  No. 

SIMPSON.  Say,  Nora,  I  met  your  friend  today. 


ACT  n]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  51 

NORA.  What  friend? 

SIMPSON.  What  friend?    Mr.  Crawford. 

NORA.  You  met  Mr.  Crawford? 

SIMPSON.  Thought  I'd  surprise  you.  He's  a  friend  of 
Maizie's  husband.  Soon  as  he  knew  I  was  in  this  company 
he  asked  right  away  if  I  knew  you,  and  I  said  we  were  great 
friends.  He's  asked  us  out  to  supper  some  night. 

NORA.  I  couldn't  go. 

[She   moves   quickly  to  the  dressing-table  and  sits. 

SIMPSON.  Why  not?  You  been  out  to  lunch  with  him. 
He  don't  like  Pat  a  little  bit,  does  he? 

NORA.  Pat  met  him  only  once. 

SIMPSON.  [Going  to  NORA.]  I  guess  once  was  enough  for 
him.  [Whispering  meaningly.']  Crawford's  a  good  thing  if 
you  work  him  right. 

NORA.  [Indignantly.']  Why,  Miss  Simpson!  I  wouldn't 
think  of  such  a  thing. 

[She  rises  and  moves  away  from  her. 

SIMPSON.  You've  been  working  him  for  tips,  haven't  you? 

NORA.  It  isn't  the  same  thing. 

SIMPSON.  I  don't  see  much  difference  between  tips  an' 
diamonds.  He's  in  love  with  you.  Maybe  he'd  be  just  fool 
enough  to  marry  you.  His  family  have  money.  I  think 
they'd  settle  if  you  bluffed  good  and  hard. 

NORA.  Please  don't  talk  like  that. 

[She  goes  out  in  the  direction  of  the  stage. 

SIMPSON.  [Calling  after  her.]  Oh!     Don't  be  silly. 

VOICE.  [Outside.]  You're  late,  O'Brien. 

PAT.  [Outside.]  Miss  Obreenne,  to  you,  Mr.  Stage  Man 
ager. 

VOICE.  [Outside.]  You  get  a  move  on. 

PAT.  [Outside.]  Don't  you  dare!     I'm  not  your  slave. 
[PAT  appears  at  the  door,  meeting  EVELYN  and  INEZ. 

VOICE.  [Outside,  nearer.}  That'll  be  about  all  from  you. 

PAT.  You  can  take  my  two  weeks  now.  If  you  can  get 
anybody  to  lead  this  chorus  better'n  me,  get  'em  an'  get 
'em  quick. 


52  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  H 

VOICE.  [Outside.]  Do  you  mean  that? 
PAT.  Sure  I  means  it.    I  don't  take  nothin'  from  no  one. 
SIMPSON.  That's  a  good  bluff. 

PAT.  You  ought  to  be  wise  to  bluffs,  Simpson;  you  throw 
a  few.    Good  evenin',  ladies. 

[Followed  by  EVELYN  and  INEZ,  PAT  walks  airily  into 
the  room.  She  is  wearing  a  new  suit  of  brown  cloth, 
a  new  hat  over  which  is  draped  an  elaborate  veil,  a 
small  scarf  of  fur  and  a  muff.  The  girls  gaze  at  her 
in  admiration,  PAT  enjoying  keenly  the  sensation  she 
is  making. 

MILLY.  Don't  you  look  grand? 
EVELYN.  Mighta  just  stepped  out  of  a  suit-case. 

[Lou  strolls  in. 

PAT.  Say,  girls,  are  you  pipin'  the  veil?    Ain't  it  a  Susie 
Smitherino?    I  don't  think  it's  at  all  loud,  do  you? 
MAI.  [Going  up  to  get  her  costume.']  Oh,  no! 
MILLY.  It's  sweet. 
EVELYN.  You  look  elegant. 
Lou.  It's  a  corker! 
PAT.  Come  at  me  light,  girls. 

INEZ.  I  never  seen  you  look  sweller.    Have  you,  Simpson? 
SIMPSON.  [Sarcastically.]  O'Brien's  a  tremendously  smart 
dresser. 

PAT.  Don't  get  petulant,  sweetheart.    You  ain't  the  only 
Daily  Hint  from  Paris. 

MILLY.  [Going  to  PAT.]  Oh,  Pat!    Them's  new  furs. 
SIMPSON.  Isn't  it  rather  late  for  furs? 
PAT.    [Ignoring  her.]    Milly!    I  struck  a  clearin'  sale  of 
furs  today  at  Macy's,  cravat  an'  cushion  muff,  four  ninety- 
six.     Best  Adirondack  sable!      [ SIMPSON  laughs  derisively. 
PAT  advances  on  her  belligerently^]     Say,  are  you  passin' 
me  the  giggle? 

[SIMPSON  subsides,  to  the  delight  of  the  girls  who 

resented  her  sneer  at  PAT'S  furs  which  MILLY,  after 

examining  appreciatively,  has  reverently  put  away. 

PAT.  Say,  Lou,  talkin'  a  sales,  ain't  that  a  peach  coat? 


ACT  n]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  53 

Nine  sixty-eight,  silk-lined!  Feel  that  linin'.  Ain't  it 
immense?  [She  drops  the  coat  in  SIMPSON'S  lap.]  Try 
it  on,  Simpson;  it  might  look  good  on  you. 

SIMPSON.  [Brushing  the  coat  off  her  lap.]  I  can't  wear 
ready-made  clothing. 

PAT.  You  can't  wear  ready-made  clothin'?  Girls,  ain't 
that  a  shame!  [The  girls  laugh.  Lou  rescues  the  coat. 
PAT  admires  herself  in  the  mirror.]  Well,  a  perfect  figure 
certainly  saves  you  money. 

[Lou  hangs  the  coat  on  a  hook.    PAT  slips  off  her  skirt, 

showing  a  petticoat  of  violent  hues. 
EVELYN.  Why,  you  got  a  new  petticoat,  too. 
PAT.  Three  forty-three.     One  of  them  invisible  plaids. 
Maybe  it  wouldn't  put  Fifth  Avenue  on  the  blink!      [As 
PAT  turns  to  hang  her  skirt  on  a  hook,  RITA  enters.]    Hello, 
Rita.    Welcome  to  our  city! 
RITA.  Hello,  Pat. 
MAI.  That's  an  awful  sweet  hat. 

PAT.  It  is  a  swell  lid.     I  blew  myself  there.    Two  ninety- 
eight.     Imported  model!     They  wanted  to  put  a  bunch  a 
peacock  feathers  on  the  side,  but  I'm  that  superstitious. 
MILLY.  So  am  I. 

PAT.  An7,  what's  the  use  a  trimmhV  when  I  have  the 
veil? 

[She  takes  off  her  hat  and  her  shirtwaist,  hangs  them 
up   carefully,   then  puts   on   a   kimono,   steps   out 
of  her  petticoat,  shakes  it  out  admiringly  and  places 
it  carefully  on  another  hook,  talking  all  the  time. 
The  girls  are  very  much  interested,  SIMPSON  taking 
great  pains  to  show  that  she  is  horribly  bored. 
PAT.  Girls,  I  seen  some  waists  today  at  Siegel-Cooper's; 
beauts,  all-over  lace,  three  dollars.     Real  lace!     I  had  to 
pass  them  up.    After  I  bought  these  yellow  kicks  my  pocket- 
book  looked  like  a  disaster. 

[She  sits  at  her  place,  which  is  at  the  lower  end  of  the 
dressing-table  on  the  left  side  of  the  room.  The 
girls,  sensing  that  PAT  and  SIMPSON,  who  invariably 


54  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  i: 

indulge  in  a  verbal  battle  when  they  meet,  are  about 
to  stage  another,  are  seated  at  their  places  in  eager 
expectancy^ 

INEZ.  You  certainly  was  good  to  yourself. 
PAT.  I've  been  savin'  on  car-fare  an'  lunches.    I  just  said 
it  was  up  to  me  to  refurnish  from  cellar  to  dome. 

[BLANCHE,  SIMPSON'S  "coloured"  maid,  enters  from 
the  dressing-room  across  the'  hall,  bringing  several 
letters  to  her  mistress. 

SIMPSON.  Take  my  coat,  Blanche.  [BLANCHE,  taking  it, 
goes.  SIMPSON  looks  at  the  letters.]  People  write  for 
autographs.  Mon  Dieu,  what  a  bore! 

[PAT  turns  and  winks  at  the  girls.  She  is  removing 
her  hair-pins  and  loosens  a  bunch  of  false  curls, 
which  she  displays. 

PAT.  [Rising.']  Girls,  how  do  you  like  my  Fritzi  Scheff's? 
Take  it  from  me,  Silas,  them  puffs  is  goin'  to  be  the  dead 
swell  article,  an'  such  a  bargain !  When  I  tell  you  the  price 

you'll  pass  away.    I  got  the  puffs  the 

INEZ.  [Going  to  her.]  Real  hair? 

PAT.  [Indignantly.]  Sure,  it's  real  hair.    Feel  it.    T  got 
the  puffs,  the  bunch  a  curls — just  flash  your  glims  on  them 
curls — and  the  bayrette,  for  one  seventy-five. 
MILLY.  [Going  to  her.]  Where  to?    Macy's? 
PAT.  No.     Got  'em  from  a  lady  friend  at  the  Casino. 
She's  lettin'  her  hair  go  back  to  brown  this  season. 

[She  returns  to  the  dressing-table. 
INEZ.  Oh,  say,  Pat,  I  brought  up  a  letter  fer  you. 
PAT.  Guys  writin'  fer  autographs.    Mon  doo,  what  a  bore! 
SIMPSON.     [Angrily.']     Are    you    mimicking    me,    Miss 
O'Brien? 

PAT.  Mimickin*  you,  Miss  Simpson?  You  ain't  got  the 
French  language  copyrighted,  have  you?  Maybe  it's  some 
newspaper  guy  wants  my  picture.  [SIMPSON  laughs  scorn 
fully,  PAT  resents  itJ]  I  been  in  the  Sunday  Telegraph 
twict  this  season. 

MILLY.  Oh,  didn't  you  love  it? 


ACT  n]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  55 

PAT.  No.  I  hate  publicity,  but  any  thin'  to  help  the 
manager  along. 

MILLY.  [Going  to  her.]  Do  you  know  any  real  reporters? 

PAT.  I  got  a  couple  on  me  staff. 

MILLY.  Say,  who's  your  letter  from?  From  your  gentle 
man  friend?  The  one  you  told  me  about,  you  know.  Dan? 

PAT.  [Reading.]  Sure,  he  writes  me  every  day,  some 
times  twict.  He's  got  a  surprise  for  me,  something  swell. 
He's  goin'  to  be  out  in  front  tonight.  Gee!  I  must  tell 
Nora. 

CALL  BOY.  [Outside.]  Fifteen  minutes. 

[INEZ  and  MILLY  run  to  their  places.    All  the  girls 
begin  to  add  last  touches  to  their  make-up. 

PAT.  Gee,  I  must  get  to  work.  Evelyn,  gimme  my  dress, 
will  you?  Girls,  who  do  you  think  I  seen  today  at  Macy's? 

MAI.  Who? 

PAT.  Mrs.  Carter. 

MILLY.  Leslie  Carter? 

PAT.  Leslie  Carter.    She  was  buy  in'  spangles. 

INEZ.  Did  you  see  her  close  to? 

PAT.  I  could  a  touched  her.  I  rubbered  to  beat  the  band. 
Don't  you  just  love  Carter? 

INEZ.  You  bet. 

PAT.  Honest,  I  think  that  woman's  got  the  most  emo 
tional  hair  in  this  business. 

EVELYN.  [Going  up  for  PAT'S  costume.]  I've  seen  her  in 
everythin'  she  plays. 

PAT.  So  have  I.  You  know,  Carter's  a  whole  lot  on  my 
style. 

SIMPSON.  I  hadn't  noticed  it. 

PAT.  Well,  you  know  you're  near-sighted.  Milly!  You 
know  I'm  really  cut  out  for  one  of  them  emotional  all-over- 
the-place  actresses. 

MILLY.  [Sighing.]  I  know,  an'  wear  spangled  dresses  an' 
smoke  cigarettes. 

MAI.  Wouldn't  it  be  sweet? 

[PAT  has  "slapped"  on  her  make-up.     EVELYN  has 


56  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  n 

brought  down  her  costume.    PAT  rises,  goes  to  her, 
EVELYN  helps  her. 

EVELYN.  I  wouldn't  care  what  it  was  so  long  as  I  could 
wear  pale  blue  tights.  I'm  just  wasted  in  skirts. 

PAT.  Nix  for  mine,  this  tights  gag.  [SIMPSON  laughs 
sarcastically.']  Not  that  I  can't  wear  'em.  Simpson,  I 
hate  to  talk  about  my  figger,  but  I  could  make  the  Venus  de 
Milo  look  like  May  Irwin.  I'm  only  in  musical  comedy 
to  learn  to  be  graceful.  I  bet  I  could  get  a  backer  to  star 
me  if  I  could  get  the  play,  but  gee,  it's  hard  to  get  a  good 
tragic  play.  Of  course  I  could  get  one  from  Charlie  Froh- 
man,  but  I  don't  want  to  take  it  away  from  Maude  Adams 
or  Ethel  Barrymore.  I  can  always  dance  for  my  livin'. 

SIMPSON.  You're  a  hit  with  yourself,  aren't  you? 

PAT.  Girls,  I'm  no  knocker,  an'  you  never  hear  me  leadin* 
any  anvil  chorus,  but  [looking  meaningly  at  SIMPSON]  if 
certain  parties  were  where  they  belonged,  they'd  be  makin' 
beds.  Gee,  I  must  get  a  move  on.  Evelyn,  would  you  mind 
braidin'  my  hair? 

EVELYN.  No. 

[PAT  sits  at  the  mirror.  She  removes  a  transformation, 
revealing  a  tiny  wisp  of  hair.  EVELYN  begins  to 
braid  it. 

PAT.  You  wouldn't  believe  I  had  grand  hair  once. 

EVELYN.  Really? 

PAT.  I  used  to  could  sit  on  it.  I  just  ruined  it  Marcellin' 
it. 

EVELYN.  [Holding  up  a  tiny  braid.]  What '11  I  do  with 
this? 

PAT.  Twist  the  ends  under. 

EVELYN.  They  won't  stay  twisted. 

PAT.  They  won't?  [She  takes  a  hand-mirror  and  looks 
at  the  back  view.]  Them  ends  used  to  stay  twisted  some- 
thin'  grand.  Here's  a  piece  a  string;  tie  it  up.  Where's 
Nora? 

EVELYN.  She  was  here  a  minute  ago. 

PAT.  I  wisht  I  was  pretty  as  Nora.     Where's  my  wig 


ACT  n]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  57 

band?  There  it  is.  [She  pins  it  around  her  head  and  looks 
at  the  effect.]  Say,  girls,  you  know  what's  the  matter  with 
my  face?  It's  too  classical. 

SIMPSON.  You  hate  yourself,  don't  you? 

PAT.  [Gazing  at  her  reflection.]  Say,  don't  I  look  like 
Ellen  Terry?  Gee,  I  just  noticed  it.  [Striking  a  pose.] 
Look,  look  now. 

EVELYN.  Yes,  you  do. 

VOICE.  [Outside.]  Any  laundry? 

GIRLS.  No. 

PAT.  [Yelling.]  Hold  on,  laundry  man.  I'm  lookin'  for 
that  guy.  [She  runs  up  to  the  door  and  opens  it.]  Well, 
you  got  a  fine  noive  comin'  here  fer  laundry.  You  kept 
mine  a  whole  week  last  time.  Honest,  girls,  I  didn't  have 
a  stitch  to  my  back. 

VOICE.  How  much  did  you  have? 

PAT.  Four  pieces. 

VOICE.  What  were  they? 

PAT.  I  had  a  skirt,  a  shirt-waist,  an'  a — say,  looka  here, 
Fresh,  it's  none  a  your  business  what  I  had.  Ain't  it 
awful?  I'll  never  get  made  up. 

[She  slams  the  door. 

VOICE.  [Outside.]  Overture!     Overture! 

[MILLY,  INEZ,  RITA,  Lou,  EVELYN  and  MAI  dash  out. 
PAT  starts  to  her  dressing-table. 

NORA.  [Outside.]  Oh,  stop.   Oh,  please  stop! 

[She  enters. 

PAT.  What  is  it,  honey  lamb? 

NORA.  That  old  tenor  tried  to  kiss  me. 

PAT.  [Going  to  the  door,  calls  off.]  Say  you,  tenor! 
Yes,  you!  You  leave  my  sister  alone,  d'ye  hear?  [She 
slams  the  door.]  Beast! 

SIMPSON.  You're  speaking  about  a  friend  of  mine. 

PAT.  Well,  if  you  want  to  associate  with  him,  that's  your 
affair.  But  he  can't  get  busy  around  my  sister. 

SIMPSON.  How  dare  you? 


58  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  n 

PAT.  [Hurrying  to  the  mirror.]  Oh,  fade  away,  Simp 
son;  fade  quick. 

SIMPSON.  Your  sister's  so  much  better  than  I  am.    That's 
the  best  laugh  I've  had  this  season. 

[PAT  is  adjusting  her  wig.  Suddenly  her  movements 
are  arrested  as  she  sees  in  the  mirror  the  effect  of 
SIMPSON'S  words  on  NORA.  Motionless  she  stands 
watching  their  reflections. 

NORA.  [Running  to  SIMPSON.]  Oh,  Miss  Simpson! 
SIMPSON.  Don't  Miss  Simpson  me!     I'm  sick  of  you  put 
ting  on  airs  about  being  so  good  and  virtuous.    You're  a 
little  sneak.     Do  you  think  I'm  going  to  put  up  with  your 
sister's  impudence  and  me  knowing  what  I  do  about  you? 
PAT.  [Turning  upon  SIMPSON.]  What  do  you  mean? 
SIMPSON.  What  do  I  mean?    Ask  her  about  her  friend, 
Mr.  Crawford. 
PAT.  Crawford! 

SIMPSON.  Yes.    Your  sweet  little  sister  who's  too  good 
to  associate  with  me  is  carrying  on  with  Dick  Crawford, 
going  to  lunch  with  him,  making  dates  with  him  after  the 
show,  playing  his  tips.    We're  all  playing  his  tips. 
PAT.  It's  a  lie. 

SIMPSON.  Ask  any  of  the  girls.    Look  at  her,  and  then 
ask  me — if  it's  a  lie. 

NORA.  [Pleadingly.']  Oh,  Pat! 

SIMPSON.  You'd  better  look  at  home,  Miss  Pat  O'Brien, 
before  you  go  casting  slurs  on  other  people's  characters. 
[She  goes  and  as  she  opens  the  door  the  first  bars 
of  the  overture  are  heard  in  the  distance.    She  slams 
the   door  angrily.    PAT   stands  speechless.    NORA, 
her  head  bowed,  is  sobbing  bitterly. 
NORA.  Pat!     Oh,  Pat! 

[PAT  goes  to  NORA,  takes  her  roughly  by  the  shoulders. 
PAT.  Look  at  me.     Have  you  gone  to  the  bad? 
NORA.  [Indignantly.]  Why,  Pat! 

PAT.  [Taking  NORA  in  her  arms.]  Thank  God!     Now 
what  about  this  Crawford? 


ACT  n]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  59 

NORA.  He's  been  kind  to  me. 

PAT.  Kind!  Is  it  kind  gettin'  you  talked  about,  com- 
promisin'  you,  the  dog! 

NORA.  He  helped  me  out  a  debt. 

PAT.  Debt?    Who'd  you  owe  money  to? 

NORA.  The  girls. 

PAT.  The  girls!     How? 

NORA.  I  placed  their  bets  on  the  Montgomery  Handicap. 
Mr.  Crawford  gave  me  the  tips.  I  took  their  winnings 
an' 

PAT.  No,  no,  I  won't  believe  it.    You  took  their  money? 

NORA.  Not  all  of  it. 

PAT.  Where's  what's  left? 

NORA.  I  didn't  have  money  enough  to  pay  them  all, 
so  I  went  to  Mr.  Crawford  thinking  I  could  double  the 
money.  He  gave  me  a  tip.  I  plunged  and  lost  it  all. 

PAT.  It  was  a  trap. 

NORA.  The  girls  kept  asking  me  for  their  winnings.  I 
couldn't  stand  it  any  longer.  I  just  had  to  go  back  to  Mr. 
Crawford.  He  gave  me  three  hundred  dollars. 

PAT.  [Sinking  into  a  chair.]  Three  hundred  dollars! 
How  could  it  be  that  much? 

NORA.  The  girls  each  bet  five  dollars  and  at  ten  to  one 
it  soon  mounts  up.  Oh,  Pat,  how  it  mounted  up! 

PAT.  What's  Crawford  to  you  that  he'd  give  you  so  much 
money? 

NORA.  Why,  nothing.  It  was  business.  I  signed  a 
paper.  Mr.  Crawford  said  to  sign  Pop's  name 

PAT.  You  forged  Pop's  name? 

NORA.  Forged? 

PAT.  Can't  you  see?  Can't  you  see!  He  can  make  Pop 
pay  that  money.  We've  gotta  get  that  note. 

NORA.  Perhaps  I  can  get  it. 

PAT.  How? 

NORA.  Mr.  Crawford's  been  asking  me  to  take  supper 
at  his  apartments  after  the  show.  I'll  go  tonight 

PAT.  [Rising.']  Go    to   his   rooms?    Ain't   you   got   no 


60  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  n 

sense?  You  won't  go,  do  you  hear  me?  Think  you  can 
get  that  note  without  payin',  an'  payin'  dear  for  it?  You 
leave  it  to  me. 

[She  goes  to  the  dressing-table,  and  begins  to  whiten 

her  arms. 

NORA.  What  are  you  going  to  do? 

PAT.  I'll  go  to  his  office  tomorrow.  I'll  tell  him  a  thing 
or  two. 

NORA.  If  you  make  him  angry  he'll  tell  father. 
PAT.  If  he  makes  a  move  like  that,  you'll  tell  Pop  first. 
NORA.  Oh,  Pop'd  never  forgive  me.     Oh!     Why  did  you 
bring  me  here? 

[She  sinks  sobbing  into  a  chair. 

PAT.  [Turning  on  her  bitterly.']  Why  did  I  bring  you 
here?  Because  I  felt  it  in  my  bones  that  he'd  come 
snoopin'  round  after  I  was  gone  an'  I  brings  you  here,  right 
to  him,  makin'  it  easy  and  convenient  for  him  to  play  his 
little  game.  How  he  must  be  givin'  me  the  laugh!  He 
knew  I  was  next,  an'  I  swore  to  Mom  I'd  look  after  you 
an'  see  no  harm'd  come  to  you.  If  this  gets  home  it  seems 
to  me  I  couldn't  ever  look  her  in  the  face  again. 

[There  is  a  knock  on  the  door.    NORA,  frightened, 

springs  to  her  feet.     There  is  a  slight  pause. 
PAT.  What  is  it? 

VOICE.  [Outside.]  Message  from  the  stage  door  for  Miss 
O'Brien.  Mr.  Mallory  asked  me  to  tell  you  that  your 
mother  and  father  wuz  in  front  tonight  and  would  you 
please  hurry  home  after  the  show. 

NORA.  [Wildly.]  I  can't  face  them.    I  can't  face  them! 
PAT.  Brace  up,  brace  up!     Hush!     Hush! 
NORA.  I  can't  dance  tonight.    It's  no  use.    I  can't  do  it. 
PAT.  But   you   gotta    dance.     The    curtain's    goin'    up. 
Stay  here;  I'll  get  somethin'  from  Georgie  to  brace  you  up. 
[She  rushes  off  towards  the  stage.    Through  the  opened 
door  come  the  strains  of  a  gay  waltz.    NORA  is  cry 
ing  hysterically  as  she  walks  up  and  down  the  room 
talking  to  herself. 


ACT  n]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  Cl 

NORA.  I  got  to  go  to  him.  I  can't  face  Pop  and  Mom 
without  that  note. 

CALL  BOY.  [Rushing  past  the  door.]  Act's  on!  Act's 
on!  Act's  on! 

NORA.  [Running  to  the  door.]  Boy,  get  me  a  cab! 
Quickly!  Quickly! 

[NORA,  seizing  her  coat  from  the  rack  by  the  door, 
dashes  down  the  hall  in  the  direction  of  the  stage 
door.  The  overture  ends  in  a  crash  of  sound.  INEZ 
and  MAI  dart  out  of  the  dressing-room  across  the  hall 
and  rush  towards  the  stage.  PAT  runs  in  carrying  a 
glass. 

PAT.  [At  the  door.]  Here,  Nora.  [She  stops  at  the  sight 
of  the  empty  room.]  Gone!  [Then  it  dawns  on  her.]  To 
Crawford's. 

[She  puts  the  glass  down  and  rushes  up  to  the  rack; 
grabs  her  street  clothes,  throws  them  on  a  chair. 
MILLY  comes  running  in. 
MILLY.     Pat!     They're  holding  the  curtain. 
PAT.  Let  'em  hold  it. 

[She  is  tearing  off  her  costume  in  frantic  haste  as  the 
curtain  jails. 


THE  THIRD  ACT 

DICK  CRAWFORD'S  apartment  in  New  York — an  attrac 
tively  and  luxuriously  furnished  living-room;  on  the 
left  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room  is  a  door  to  the  hall, 
on  the  right  a  fireplace  and  a  door  to  a  bedroom,  at 
the  back  a  large  window.  There  are  comfortable 
chairs,  a  large  table  with  newspapers,  magazines,  a 
lamp  and  a  silver  box  containing  cigars;  on  a  side 
table  are  decanters  and  glasses  and  on  a  small  table  at 
the  left  of  the  room  are  a  tobacco  jar,  cigarettes  and 
matches.  Sporting  prints  hang  on  the  walls  and  the 
mantelpiece  is  crowded  with  silver  cups  and  auto 
graphed  photographs  of  actresses.  The  curtains  are 
drawn,  the  lamp  is  lighted  and  a  fire  is  burning  in  the 
grate.  NORA  is  seated  by  the  fireplace.  ROGERS,  CRAW 
FORD'S  man  servant,  enters  from  the  hall.  NORA  rises 
quickly. 

NORA.  [Anxiously.']  Couldn't  you  find  Mr.   Crawford? 
ROGERS.  Yes,  I  found  him  at  the  club.     I  had  him  on 
the  telephone. 

NORA.  Will  he  be  here  soon? 

ROGERS.  He'll  be  here  right  away.  The  dub  is  just 
around  the  corner.  Is  there  anything  else  I  can  do  for 
you? 

NORA.  No,  thank  you. 

[The  sound  of  the  opening  and  closing  of  a  door  is 

heard. 

ROGERS.  I  think  that's  Mr.  Crawford  now.  [He  goes  to 
the  door.]  Yes,  it  is. 

[He  leaves  the  room.  NORA  stands  at  the  fireplace, 
nervously  twisting  her  handkerchief.  CRAWFORD 
enters. 

62 


ACT  in]  THE  CHORiUS  LADY  63 

CRAWFORD.  Oh,  it's  you.  [He  goes  to  her  and  takes  her 
hands.']  This  is  a  pleasant  surprise.  I'm  sorry  I  wasn't 
here  to  welcome  you,  but  you've  said  "no"  so  many  times 
I'd  given  up  hope.  Why,  how  pretty  you  look!  It's  only 
nine  o'clock.  How  did  you  get  away  so  early? 

NORA.  [Moving  away.]  I  didn't  go  on  tonight.  I — I 
wanted  to  see  you. 

CRAWFORD.  [Following  her.]  Not  half  so  much  as  I 
wanted  to  see  you.  Come  sit  down  and  be  comfortable. 
We'll  have  a  bite  to  eat  and  something  to  drink. 

NORA.  I  can't,  Mr.  Crawford.  I've  got  to  get  back  to 
the  theatre  right  away. 

CRAWFORD.  Oh,  that's  all  right.  They  won't  make  any 
trouble.  I  stand  pretty  well  at  the  Longacre  and  I'll 
square  it  for  you. 

NORA.  It  isn't  the  theatre,  Mr.  Crawford.  I'm  in  great 
trouble. 

CRAWFORD.  Why,  what's  the  matter? 

NORA.  Father  and  mother  are  in  front  tonight.  I  must 
have  that  note  I  signed. 

CRAWFORD.  [Uneasily.]  Does  O'Brien  know  about  it? 

NORA.  No. 

CRAWFORD.  [Relieved.]  Don't  let  that  worry  you.  We'll 
talk  it  over  presently.  There's  loads  of  time.  We've  the 
whole  evening. 

NORA.  No,  no.  I  must  go  home  right  away.  I  must 
have  that  note.  I  can't  face  him  without  it.  I'm  a  forger. 
Why  did  you  make  me  a  forger?  I  didn't  know.  I'm  hor 
ribly  afraid. 

[She  drops  into  a  chair  by  the  table  and  covers  her 
face  with  her  hands.  CRAWFORD  comes  to  her,  takes 
her  hands  from  her  face  and  kisses  them. 

CRAWFORD.  Afraid?     Of  whom? 

NORA.  Of  father.  Of  you.  You'll  give  it  to  me,  won't 
you?  I'll  pay  you  the  money  somehow. 

CRAWFORD.  [Meaningly.]  I  don't  want  the  money. 
[NORA  relieved.]  I  want  you. 


64  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  m 

[He  leans  over  and  kisses  her.     NORA  is  frightened. 

NORA.  Oh,  please,  Mr.  Crawford. 

[She  runs  away  from  him.    CRAWFORD  follows  her. 

CRAWFORD.  Don't  you  care  about  me  at  all? 

NORA.  Why — yes — but  please  give  me  that  note  and  let 
me  go.  I'll  come  some  other  time  and  have  supper  with 
you. 

CRAWFORD.  But  there's  no  time  like  the  present.  Why, 
you're  shivering.  Sit  here  by  the  fire  and  I'll  get  you  a 
glass  of  something.  [He  places  her  in  the  chair  at  fireplace 
and  crosses  to  the  table.  There  is  a  knock  at  the  door.} 
Come  in! 

ROGERS.  Mr.  Mallory's  calling,  sir. 

CRAWFORD.  Mallory? 

NORA.  [Rising  quickly  in  alarm. ]  Dan! 

CRAWFORD.  I'm  not  at  home. 

ROGERS.  Beg  pardon,  sir,  but  he  telephoned  earlier  in 
the  evening.  He  said  it  was  important  business  and  I  told 
him  you'd  be  here,  sir.  I'm  sorry,  sir,  but  I  didn't  think 
you'd  be  engaged. 

CRAWFORD.  [To  NORA.]  What's  he  doing  in  town? 

NORA.  He  came  with  mother  and  father. 

CRAWFORD.  Show  him  in.  [ROGERS  goes.  NORA  ex 
claims.]  That's  all  right.  You  wait  in  here.  I'll  get  rid 
of  him. 

NORA.  I'm  so  frightened. 

CRAWFORD.  Nonsense. 

[He  puts  her  quickly  into  the  bedroom  and  closes  the 
doQr  as  ROGERS  enters,  followed  by  DAN. 

ROGERS.  Mr.  Mallory. 

CRAWFORD.  Hello,  Mallory. 

DAN.  How  are  you,  Crawford? 

CRAWFORD.  Rogers,  take  Mr.  Mallory's  coat. 

DAN.  Can't  stop  but  a  minute.  [ROGERS  goes.]  I  left 
O'Brien  an'  his  wife  at  the  theatre,  an'  told  them  I'd  run 
over  to  see  you  but  promised  to  be  back  after  the  first  act. 
Surprised  you,  eh? 


ACT  m]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  65 

CRAWFORD.  Rather! 

[He  sits. 

DAN.  Thought  I'd  run  up  to  town  an'  talk  over  that  Mo 
Govern  matter.  The  old  folks  had  got  to  worryin'  about 
the  girls,  so  I  brought  them  along.  Mrs.  O'Brien  got  it 
into  her  head  that  somethin'  was  wrong. 

CRAWFORD.  [Startled.]  Has  she  heard  anything? 

DAN.  No,  a  dream  or  somethin'.  You  know  what  moth 
ers  are. 

[He  sits. 

CRAWFORD.  [Relkved.]  I  guess  her  girls  are  all  right. 

DAN.  Sure,  seen  'em  lately? 

CRAWFORD.  I've  run  into  them  on  the  street  a  couple  of 
times  and  of  course  I've  seen  them  in  the  piece. 

DAN.  Great  show,  ain't  it?  I  came  up  for  the  openin'. 
Nora  did  mighty  well  for  a  new  beginner,  but,  say,  isn't 
Pat  great?  When  she  comes  on  in  that  second  act  leadin' 
that  bunch  of  girls  in  that  white  dress  with  all  those  shiny 
flumidoodles  an'  that  sassy  hat  perched  on  her  little  blonde 
head,  she's  the  hit  of  the  show  to  me. 

CRAWFORD.  Looks  pretty  nice. 

DAN.  She  ought  to  be  play  in'  a  part.  Maybe  it's  just 
as  well.  She  wouldn't  be  so  willin'  to  give  it  up.  I  haven't 
said  anythin'  before,  Crawford,  but  if  the  stable  keeps  on 
with  this  run  of  luck  you'll  be  gettin'  a  weddin'  invitation 
one  of  these  days. 

CRAWFORD.  Congratulations,  old  man.  Here,  we  ought 
to  have  a  drink  on  that.  [He  rises  and  pours  a  couple  of 
drinks  from  a  decanter  on  the  table.]  To  Pat! 

DAN.   [Rising.]  To  Pat! 

CRAWFORD.  Here's  hoping  you're  happy. 

DAN.  Happy?  It's  a  cinch.  [They  drink.]  Well,  I 
guess  I've  landed  McGovern. 

CRAWFORD.  Good  work. 

[They  sit. 

DAN.  Yes,  it  means  a  big  thing  for  the  stable.  When 
the  wise  ones  find  out  that  old  McGovern,  the  wisest  boy 


66  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  m 

of  'em  all,  pays  a  good  stiff  figure  for  Lady  Belle,  it  will 
give  the  string  a  good  boost  an'  we  ought  to  get  fancy  prices. 
CRAWFORD.  [Offering  a  cigar.]  What  are  you  holding 
Lady  Belle  at? 

DAN.  Five  thousand. 

CRAWFORD.  And 

DAN.  We've  done  a  tall  stunt  of  hagglin'  but  he  was 
around  to  see  me  tonight  before  dinner.  I  told  him  to  call 
you  up.  He'll  run  up  a  telephone  bill  for  five  dollars  try 
ing  to  get  you  to  take  four  thousand  nine  hundred  an' 
ninety  nine.  He's  a  gabby  old  guy,  but  don't  let  him  wear 
you  out.  He'll  pay  the  figure. 

CRAWFORD.  I  like  your  nerve,  sicking  him  at  me. 
DAN.  Had  to  get  rid  of  him  somehow.     He'd  be  talkin' 
yet  an'  I  was  hungry. 

[Enter  ROGERS. 
ROGERS.  Telephone,  sir. 
DAN.  I'll  bet  that's  McGovern  now. 

[He  goes  over  to  the  table  at  the  left  in  search  of 
matches.  CRAWFORD,  rising,  glances  uneasily 
towards  the  door  to  the  bedroom.  DAN  turns 
and  CRAWFORD,  seeing  that  DAN  is  looking  at  him 
curiously,  laughs  and  leaves  the  room.  The  door  to 
the  bedroom  opens.  NORA  looks  out,  sees  DAN, 
whose  back  is  turned  to  her  as  he  lights  his  cigar. 
She  makes  an  exclamation  of  dismay.  DAN  turns 
quickly  and  sees  her  hand  as  it  is  closing  the  door. 
He  chuckles. 

DAN.  Gee,  I  guess  I'm  buttin'  in  on  somethin'. 
CRAWFORD.   [Entering.']  It's  for  you,  Mallory. 
DAN.  Now  see  here,  Crawford,  that  isn't  fair.     I've  had 
more  than  my  share  of  McGovern. 

CRAWFORD.  It  isn't  McGovern.  It's  someone  at  the 
Longacre  Theatre. 

DAN.  [Alarmed.]  The  theatre!     Wonder  what's  up? 
[He  goes.    CRAWFORD  runs  to  the  bedroom  doorf  opens 
it  and  NORA  appears. 


ACT  in]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  67 

NORA.  Has  he  gone? 

CRAWFORD.  Not  yet,  but  he  will  be  very  soon. 

NORA.  [Alarmed.]  He  doesn't  suspect  that  I'm  here? 

CRAWFORD.  Why  should  he? 

NORA.  [Plaintively.]  I  don't  know,  but  I  wish  I  were  at 
home. 

CRAWFORD.  Now,  don't  get  rattled. 

NORA.  He  won't  find  me? 

CRAWFORD.  Not  if  I  can  help  it. 

[DAN'S  laugh  is  heard  outside.  CRAWFORD  hastily 
closes  the  door  and  moves  to  the  centre  of  the  room. 
DAN  enters  laughing. 

DAN.  It  was  O'Brien.  He  says  they  can't  find  their 
girls  on  the  stage  an'  Mrs.  O'Brien's  in  the  lobby  insistin' 
that  someone  has  stolen  their  darlin's.  Isn't  it  rich? 
They  don't  recognise  'em  in  their  stage  get-up.  I  must 
get  a  move  on.  I  bet  O'Brien  has  his  hands  full.  Where's 
my  hat?  I'll  call  you  up  in  the  mornin'  before  I  leave. 
What's  the  quickest  way  down  town? 

CRAWFORD.  You  can  take  the  Subway  at  86th  street,  get 
off  at  42nd  street. 

DAN.  Well,  good  night. 

CRAWFORD.  Good  night.  [DAN  leaves  and  presently  the 
door  is  heard  to  slam  outside.  CRAWFORD  goes  up  to  the 
fireplace,  presses  the  button,  then  pours  another  drink. 
ROGERS  enters.]  I  will  want  a  bite  of  supper  later. 

ROGERS.  Yes,  sir.    When? 

CRAWFORD.  In  about  an  hour. 

ROGERS.  What  would  you  like,  sir? 

CRAWFORD.  I  don't  know.  What  would  you  suggest? 
Birds? 

ROGERS.  Hardly,  sir.  You've  got  to  be  eddicated  up  to 
birds.  I  should  say  a  chicken  salad  and  ice  cream  and  a 
sweet  champagne. 

CRAWFORD.  I  can't  eat  that  truck. 

ROGERS.  No,  sir.     Certainly  not,  sir. 


C8  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  m 

[The  door  bell  rings   sharply,  then  again.     ROGERS 
hurries  to  answer  it. 

CRAWFORD.  Who  the  devil  is  that? 

[The  voices  of  PAT  and  ROGERS  are  heard  outside  in 
excited  argument. 

PAT.  I  must  see  him. 

ROGERS.  But  you  can't  see  him,  Miss. 

PAT.  I  will  see  him.  [She  bursts  into  the  room,  followed 
by  ROGERS.]  Is  my  sister  here? 

CRAWFORD.  Your  sister? 

PAT.  Yes,  Nora. 

CRAWFORD.  I've  just  come  in.  My  man  might  know. 
Rogers,  has  a  young  lady  called  within  the  last  five  min 
utes? 

ROGERS.  No,  sir. 

CRAWFORD.  That  will  do,  Rogers. 

[ROGERS  leaves. 

PAT.  That's  kind  a  funny.  She  ain't  at  the  show  shop. 
I  thought  sure  she  came  here. 

CRAWFORD.  Did  Miss  Nora  say  she  was  coming  here? 

PAT.  No. 

[CRAWFORD    shrugs    his    shoulders.    PAT    is    discon 
certed. 

CRAWFORD.  Perhaps  she  went  home. 

PAT.  She  had  a  date  with  you,  didn't  she?  [CRAWFORD 
pretends  blank  ignorance.]  You  asked  her  out  to  supper, 
didn't  you? 

CRAWFORD.  I've  invited  her  several  times,  but  we  haven't 
had  supper  together  yet. 

PAT.  Maybe  I  got  here  ahead  of  her.  Maybe  she'll  be 
here  later. 

CRAWFORD.  I  haven't  received  any  word  that  she'll  be 
here  later. 

PAT.  Well,  I  gotta  see  her  important.  I'll  wait  a  few 
minutes  if  you  don't  mind. 

CRAWFORD.  [Annoyed.]  Certainly  not. 


ACT  in]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  69 

PAT.  You  ain't  awful  affable.  I  could  use  a  chair  if  it 
was  handed  me. 

CRAWFORD.  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  O'Brien. 
[He  offers  her  a  chair.    PAT  sits  wearily,  and  to  CRAW 
FORD'S  intense  annoyance  begins  to  remove  her  hat. 

PAT.  Gee,  I'm  tired.  I  done  a  hard  chase  here.  Ain't 
it  awful  the  way  those  hat  pins  can  crimp  you?  Would 
I  be  takin'  a  liberty  if  I  asked  for  a  drink? 

CRAWFORD.  Certainly  not.  What  will  it  be,  a  glass  of 
champagne? 

PAT.  Nix  with  the  wealthy  water. 

CRAWFORD.  A  glass  of  beer? 

PAT.  No  suds  in  mine.  Just  plain  croton.  [CRAWFORD 
goes  to  get  her  a  glass  of  water.  PAT  rises  and  walks 
about.']  This  place  is  awful  cute  and  cozy.  You  must  en 
joy  life  to  beat  the  band,  nothin'  on  your  mind  but  your 
hair.  [PAT  sees  the  door  to  the  bedroom  and  goes  toward 
it.]  How  many  rooms  you  got? 

CRAWFORD.  Two. 

PAT.  [At  the  door.}  Where  does  this  door  go  to? 

CRAWFORD.  [Casually.']  Oh,  that's  a  sort  of  closet  for 
my  man.  [PAT  moves  away.  CRAWFORD  gives  her  the 
glass.]  Here's  looking  at  you.  [PAT  drinks.]  Aren't 
you  dancing  tonight? 

PAT.  [Sitting.]  No,  I  got  the  pip  in  me  ankle.  Got  too 
gay  at  rehoisal  yesterday. 

CRAWFORD.  [Making  conversation.]  Dancing  must  be 
very  hard  work.  It  looks  so  acrobatic. 

PAT.  The  smile's  the  hard  part  a  dancin'.  It's  no  cinch 
stannin'  on  one  toe  with  the  other  pointin'  to  a  quarter  to 
six,  an'  then  look  like  the  cat  that's  just  eat  the  canary. 
I've  often  wished  I'd  gone  into  Wall  Street.  I  got  a  great 
head  for  biziness.  Now,  Nora's  just  the  opposite.  Won 
der  where  she  is?  Oh,  well,  no  use  worryin'.  I'm  en- 
joyin'  myself.  [She  takes  off  her  coat.]  Gee,  it's  hot  in 
here.  Say,  what  was  we  talkin'  about? 

CRAWFORD.  [Sarcastically.]  Yourself,  I  think. 


?0  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  m 

PAT.  [Meaningly.]  Let's  talk  about  Nora. 

CRAWFORD.  Nora? 

PAT.  Yes,  Nora.  [With  menace.]  I  want  you  to  let 
my  sister  alone.  She's  new  to  the  game  an'  she's  a  good 
kid. 

CRAWFORD.  I  guess  she's  able  to  take  care  of  herself,  and 
when  a  girl's  good 

PAT.  She's  good  anywhere.  I  know  all  about  that.  An' 
that  other  one  about  "the  wages  a  sin  bein'  death."  Well, 
maybe,  but  say,  when  you're  scrimpin'  along  on  twenty 
per  an'  the  next  girl  to  you  in  the  dressin'-room  comes 
down  to  the  show  shop  every  night  in  a  benzine  buzz 
waggin,  in  ermine  capes  and  diamonds  big  as  oysters,  it 
ain't  religion  so  much  as  a  firm  grip  on  home  and  mother 
that  keeps  you  handin'  out  the  icy  eye  to  the  man  behind 
the  bank  roll.  You  see,  Nora's  an  awful  ninny.  Why,  she 
even  thinks  that  note  you've  gotta  hers  is  good.  Honest, 
when  she  told  me  I  nearly  laffed  myself  to  death. 

[She  laughs. 

CRAWFORD.  [Annoyed.]  It's  good,  all  right. 

PAT.  Quit  yer  kiddin'. 

CRAWFORD.  It's  good  for  three  hundred  dollars. 

PAT.  Get  a  transfer,  Crawford;  get  a  transfer.  It's  only 
a  forgery  an'  a  bum  one  at  that. 

CRAWFORD.  I  don't  believe  Mr.  P.  O'Brien  would  put  it 
to  protest  if  I  presented  it  at  my  bank  for  payment. 

PAT.  But  you  ain't  goin'  to  do  that. 

CRAWFORD.  That  depends. 

PAT.  ["Jollying"  him.]  You  wouldn't  show  Nora  up  to 
her  father.  You're  too  good  a  sport  fer  that. 

CRAWFORD.  I'm  a  good  sport  all  right  but  I'm  not  a 
mark.  That  money  is  due  me  honestly  and  I'm  going  to 
get  value  received. 

PAT.  [Angrily.]  Honestly!  You  don't  call  leadin'  a  girl 
a  seventeen  into  makin'  a  fool  a  herself  an'  puttin'  her 
father's  name  to  paper  honest?  If  you  ask  me,  it's  a 
bunk. 


ACT  in]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  71 

CRAWFORD.  But  I'm  not  asking  you.  If  you  please  we'll 
not  discuss  it. 

PAT.  [Rising,  goes  to  him.]  Sure  we'll  discuss  it,  here, 
now.  Saves  me  a  trip  to  your  office  tomorrow. 

CRAWFORD.  This  concerns  your  sister  and  me. 

PAT.  You  mean,  it's  none  a  my  business. 

CRAWFORD.  Precisely. 

PAT.  I'm  going  to  make  it  my  business.  This  note  with 
the  phoney  signature  brings  Pop  an'  the  family  into  the 
muss. 

CRAWFORD.  The  matter  is  entirely  between  your  sister 
and  me.  We  are  competent  to  manage  our  affairs. 

PAT.  You  can  manage  yours  all  right,  but  I'll  have  a  hand 
in  managin'  my  sister's  or  know  the  reason  why.  I've 
promised  my  mother  to  take  care  a  her  an'  you  bet  your 
life  I'm  goin'  to. 

CRAWFORD.  And  I'm  going  to  protect  my  interests. 

PAT.  You're  not  goin'  about  it  right.  Your  interest  in 
Dan  Mallory's  stable's  a  pretty  good  thing,  ain't  it? 

CRAWFORD.  What  has  that  to  do  with  it? 

PAT.  You  get  gay  with  that  phoney  note,  an*  I'll  show 
you  up.  [Jeeringly]  Dan  wouldn't  do  a  thing  to  you. 

CRAWFORD.  He  wouldn't  jeopardise  the  future  of  his 
stables. 

PAT.  He  wouldn't?  A  lot  you  know  about  it.  He'll 
dump  you  an'  that  stable  so  quick  on  my  say  so  it'll  make 
your  head  swim.  I'm  givin'  you  the  right  steer,  Crawford. 
If  you've  gotta  lick  a  sense  you'll  pass  over  that  note,  an' 
let  me  go  home.  [Picking  up  her  hat  and  coat.]  I  guess 
Nora  ain't  comin'. 

ROGERS.  [Enters  agitatedly.']  Mr.  Crawford,  Mrs.  O'Bri 
en's  in  the  hall. 

PAT.  Mom! 

CRAWFORD.  I  can't  see  her. 

ROGERS.  She  won't  leave  without  seeing  you. 

[PAT  looks  about  wildly. 


72  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  ni 

PAT.  What'll  I  do?    Where'll  I  go? 

[She  rushes  to  the  door  of  the  bedroom. 
CRAWFORD.  No,  no,  not  there. 

[Before  CRAWFORD  can  stop  her  PAT  rushes  into  the 
room,  slamming  the  door  behind  her.  An  instant's 
pause,  then  PAT'S  voice  is  heard  in  heartbroken  sur 
prise  exclaiming  "Nora."  ROGERS  shows  in  MRS. 
O'BRIEN.  She  wears  her  "Sunday  best,"  a  black 
silk  dress,  a  fichu,  a  Paisley  shawl  and  a  bonnet. 
She  is  very  much  agitated.  She  glances  quickly 
about  the  room. 

CRAWFORD.  Good  evening,  Mrs.  O'Brien. 
MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Good  evenin',  Mr.  Crawford. 
CRAWFORD.  Won't  you  be  seated? 

[CRAWFORD'S   manner  reassures  MRS.  O'BRIEN,  who 

controls  herself  and  sits. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Thank  you,  sir.     I  hope  you'll  pardon 
the  intrusion. 

CRAWFORD.  [Sitting.']  It's  not  an  intrusion,  I  assure  you. 
[There  is  a  pause.     MRS.  O'BRIEN  is  embarrassed,  and 
makes  several  efforts  to   address  CRAWFORD.    She 
finally  plucks  up  courage. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  I'm  in  great  distress,  Mr.  Crawford. 
CRAWFORD.  Yes? 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  I've  had  a  terrible  fright.     I  can't  find 
trace  of  me  girls. 

CRAWFORD.  Indeed?     Can  I  be  of  any  assistance  to  you? 

[There  is  another  pause. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [More  embarrassed.}  I've  somethin'  to 
ask  you,  Mr.  Crawford.     Promise  you  won't  take  an  of 
fence  at  an  old  woman. 
CRAWFORD.  Certainly  not. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Do  you  know  aught  of  my  Nora? 
CRAWFORD.  I  don't  understand. 
MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Mallory  was  here,  was  he  not? 
CRAWFORD.  Yes. 


ACT  in],  THE  CHORUS  LADY  73 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  You  were  here  when  O'Brien  telephoned. 

CRAWFORD.  Yes.  He  said  you  didn't  recognise  your 
daughters  on  the  stage. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Good  reason,  they  weren't  there.  I 
couldn't  wait  fer  Danny  to  come,  so  O'Brien  an'  me  found 
our  way  to  the  back  door  of  the  theatre,  thinkin'  they 
might  be  in  their  dressin'-rooms. 

CRAWFORD.  They  were  not  there? 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  They  sent  down  a  young  lady,  a  Miss 
Simpson,  and  she  says  to  me,  that  they  didn't  know  where 
Pat  was,  but  that  maybe  Nora  had  gone  to  Mr.  Craw 
ford's.  O'Brien  was  for  comin'  here,  but  he's  hasty  an'  I 
thought  he  might  offend  you,  so  I  persuaded  him  to  go 
home. 

CRAWFORD.  [Rises.]  I'm  very  sorry,  Mrs.  O'Brien,  not 
to  be  able  to  give  you  any  assistance. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Rising.']  How  comes  my  Nora's  name  to 
be  linked  with  yours? 

CRAWFORD.  That's  chorus  girl  gossip.  I've  tried  to  be 
nice  to  the  girls  because  of  my  friendship  for  you  and 
O'Brien. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Tis  meant  kindly,  Mr.  Crawford,  but  it 
has  done  harm  for  what  that  young  woman  intimated  made 
me  ashamed  for  me  darlin'. 

CRAWFORD.  I'm  very  sorry,  Mrs.  O'Brien.  I  meant  no 
harm. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  'Tis  relieved  I  am  to  find  she's  not  here. 
She  and  Pat's  off  somewhere  together,  likely. 

CRAWFORD.  Quite  probably.     Did  they  expect  you? 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  No.  'Twas  my  idea  to  surprise  them. 
Danny  left  word  but  I  misdoubt  they  got  it.  I'll  just  be 
goin'  along.  Thank  you,  Mr.  Crawford,  for  your  kind 
ness. 

[She  turns  to  go.    ROGERS  enters. 

ROGERS.  Mr.  Mallory  is  here,  sir. 

[DAN  rushes  past  ROGERS  into  the  room. 


74  THE  CHORUS  LADY'  [ACT  HI 

DAN.  [To  MRS.  O'BRIEN.]  I  followed  you.  O'Brien 
said  you  had  come  here  for  Nora. 

[ROGERS  leaves. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  She's  not  here. 

DAN.  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Whatever  do  you  mean,  Danny? 

CRAWFORD.  [Indignantly.]  Yes,  I'd  like  to  know  what 
you  mean? 

DAN.  Miss  Simpson  was  very  positive  that  Nora  had 
come  to  see  you. 

CRAWFORD.  I'm  quite  as  positive  that  Miss  Simpson  was 
mistaken. 

DAN.  Nora  is  not  here? 

CRAWFORD.  Of  course  not. 

DAN.  [Going  towards  him.]  Who  was  the  woman  in  that 
room  when  I  was  here  before? 

CRAWFORD.  What  woman? 

DAN.  The  woman  you  hid  in  there  when  I  was  an 
nounced.  The  woman  who  stole  out  of  that  room  while 
you  were  at  the  telephone,  thinkin'  I  had  gone.  She  saw 
me  an'  stole  back  again.  I  saw  her  hand  closin'  the  door. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Are  you  deceivin'  me,  Mr.  Crawford? 

CRAWFORD.  Deceiving  you,  Mrs.  O'Brien? 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  For  the  love  of  God  don't  tell  me  my 
Nora's  there. 

CRAWFORD.  I  have  already  told  you,  Mrs.  O'Brien,  that 
I  know  nothing  about  your  daughter.  That  Nora's  not 
here.  Mr.  Mallory's  talking  nonsense. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Sure,  Dan,  Mr.  Crawford's  given  you  his 
word ;  come  away,  boy. 

DAN.  I'll  come  away  when  I  have  had  a  look  through 
that  other  room. 

[He  starts  for  the  bedroom.  CRAWFORD,  trying  to 
intercept  him,  is  thrown  aside  roughly  by  DAN  who 
pulls  the  door  open.  PAT,  who  has  been  holding  it 
closed,  is  dragged  into  the  room.  She  closes  the 
door  hastily  and  stands  against  it,  barring  the  way. 


ACT  in]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  75 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Sinking  into  a  chair.]  Pat!  You,  that 
I  thought  was  good  as  gold. 

PAT.  I'm  not  what  you  both  think. 

DAN.  Then  what  brings  you  here  in  the  night  to  this 
man's  rooms?  Speak  to  me.  [PAT  is  silent.]  Answer  me. 

PAT.  I  came  here  to  see  Mr.  Crawford  on  a  matter  a 
business. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Rising.]  Come  away  with  us,  girl. 

PAT.  I  can't. 

DAN.  You  can't,  why  not? 

CRAWFORD.  You'd  better  go. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Come  Pat,  your  father  may  follow  us 
here  at  any  moment. 

CRAWFORD.  I'd  advise  you  to  go.  I  don't  want  a  scene 
with  O'Brien. 

DAN.  [Turning  on  CRAWFORD.]  O'Brien  was  right.  He 
never  trusted  you,  you  blackguard,  destroyin'  the  daughter 
of  the  man  that  made  you  welcome  in  his  home,  deceivin' 
him,  deceivin'  me  that  believed  in  you,  deceivin'  her,  bring- 
in'  shame  on  her.  By  God — I'll 

[He  goes  towards  CRAWFORD  threateningly.    PAT  stops 
him  quickly. 

PAT.  Don't  quarrel,  Dan.  I've  had  enough  to  bear.  I 
don't  want  to  separate  you  two.  Think  what  you'll  lose. 

DAN.  [Turning  on  her.]  Lose?  I've  lost  everything 
losin'  you.  [To  CRAWFORD.]  We're  down  an'  out  from 
now,  Crawford. 

CRAWFORD.  As  you  please,  and  now  that  our  affairs  are 
in  a  measure  settled 

DAN.  [Grimly.]  Settled?     We've  just  begun. 

PAT.  No,  no,  Dan.  I  know  everything  dead  against 
me,  but  you  don't  know,  you  don't  know. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Know?  We  know  you've  brought  dis 
grace  on  me  an'  your  old  father  an'  Nora.  Where  is  she? 
What  have  you  done  with  my  Nora?  [Bitterly.]  You 
that  was  to  watch  over  her? 

PAT.  I've  t^aken  care  a  her  all  right. 


76  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  in 

DAN.  How?  By  passin'  her  off  to  them  girls  at  the  the 
atre  as  this  man's  sweetheart? 

PAT.  Who  said  that? 

DAN.  The  Simpson  woman.  Didn't  you  lead  them  to 
think  that  Nora  was  comin'  to  his  rooms,  when  it  was  your 
self?  Where  is  she? 

PAT.  I  don't  know  where  she  is.    We've  quarrelle ' 

DAN.  About  this  man? 

PAT.  Yes,  about  this  man. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [To  DAN.]  Come,  it  will  do  no  good  to 
stay. 

CRAWFORD.  She's  right,  Mallory.  I  advise  you  to  go. 
I've  had  a  few  hard  things  said  to  me  tonight,  and  I'm  not 
in  the  humour  for  any  more. 

DAN.  You'll  have  a  few  hard  things  done  to  you  before 
I  get  through  with  you. 

PAT.  No,  no,  Dan.  I  can  explain.  [DAN  turns  to  her 
hopefully.]  But  not  now,  you've  gotta  trust  me. 

DAN.  I  did  trust  you.  I  trusted  him  an'  you've  both 
made  a  fool  of  me. 

PAT.  No,  no,  Dan.  Take  Mom  away;  I  can  make  it  all 
right  with  you. 

DAN.  [Contemptuously.]  You  can  make  it  all  right  with 
me?  I  suppose  you  think  I'm  not  wise  to  the  kind  of 
woman  you've  turned  out  to  be.  I  suppose  you  thought 
when  he  got  through  with  you  an'  he  cast  you  off  you'd 
come  to  me.  He's  one  of  the  rich  men  you  wuz  willjnMo 
give  up  for  me.  Well,  you  needn't.  If  money  counts  for 
more  than  love  you're  welcome  to  it  an'  to  him. 

[He  turns  to  leave. 

PAT.  [Following  him.]  Love,  a  lot  you  know  about  it. 
,Love  is  trust.  An'  you're  the  man  I  banked  on  an'  the 
first  minute  I  puts  you  to  the  test  you  fall  down  hard.  If 
you  think  I'm  bad  you  can  think  it.  I'm  through  with 
you. 

[She  takes  her  position  again  at  the  door. 


ACT  m]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  77 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Angrily.]  Have  you  no  shame  to  stand 
there  and  brazen  it  out  before  the  man  who  loves  you? 
[To  DAN.]  Let  her  father  settle  with  this  man. 

DAN.  No.  Do  you  think  he's  goin'  to  wreck  her  life 
an'  wreck  all  my  hopes  an'  go  scot  free?  No,  he's  goin' 
to  answer  to  me. 

[He  advances  menacingly  towards  CRAWFORD. 
CRAWFORD.  I'm  not  going  to  fight  with  you.  I'm  not 
going  to  have  my  name  mixed  up  in  a  dirty  scandal  with 
a  lot  of  race  track  hangers-on  and  chorus  girls.  I've  had 
enough  of  this.  I've  had  enough  of  the  lot  of  you.  You'll 
leave  my  house,  all  of  you,  every  last  one  of  you. 

[He  makes  a  movement  towards  the  bedroom.     PAT 

stops  him. 

PAT.  [Imploringly.']  No,  no,  not  that,  not  after  all  I've 
done.  There  won't  be  any  scandal.  There  won't  be  any 
fight.  I'll  get  rid  of  'em.  [She  goes  over  to  DAN.] 
Why  don't  you  leave  us?  What  do  you  want  me  to  do? 
What  more  do  you  want  me  to  say?  I  love  this  man. 
He's  everythin'  to  me.  You're  nothin'  to  me.  Don't 
stand  lookin'  at  me  like  that.  Go!  Go! 

[MRS.  O'BRIEN,  crying,  goes  towards  the  door  to  the 
hall.  DAN  looks  at  PAT  who  apparently  defies  him, 
then  he  leads  MRS.  O'BRIEN  gently  from  the  room. 
As  the  door  closes  PAT  makes  an  impulsive  move  to 
follow  them,  then  stops  and  breaks  into  heart 
broken  sobbing.  CRAWFORD  watches  her,  then, 
moved  to  sympathy,  comes  to  her. 

CRAWFORD.  You  needn't  mind  about  that  money.  You 
needn't  pay. 

PAT.  [Bitterly.]  I  needn't  pay?  [She  turns  on  him  furi 
ously.']  I  have  paid  with  my  good  name,  with  my  moth 
er's  trust.  With  the  love  of  the  man  I've  loved  all  my 
life.  That's  what  I've  paid  to  save  my  sister  from  you, 
you  beast.  I  suppose  you  and  your  kind  think  when  you 
take  some  poor  devil  of  a  girl  starvin'  for  a  little  comfort, 
a  minute  or  two  a  happiness,  an'  you  make  her  a  thing 


78  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  m 

that  good  women  won't  look  at,  I  suppose  you  think  your 
measly  money  pays.  Pays  for  the  homes  you  ruin,  the 
mothers'  hearts  you  break,  the  girls  you  send  to  hell.  You 
pay!  No,  it's  the  woman  that  pays,  and  pays  and  pays. 

[She  is  sobbing  in  an  hysterical  rage  as  the  curtain 

'  jails. 


THE  FOURTH  ACT 

The  parlour  of  a  four-room  flat  in  Harlem  occupied  by  PAT 
and  NORA.  It  is  characteristically  "cheap"  the  wood 
work  is  painted  in  an  imitation  golden  oak,  the  wall 
paper  garish.  It  is  a  very  small  room;  at  the  back  is 
a  door  opening  into  the  main  hall  of  the  building,  on 
the  right  a  door  to  the  bedroom,  on  the  left  the  open 
ing  to  an  alcove  which  serves  as  the  dining-room. 
There  are  only  a  few  articles  of  furniture  in  the  room 
and  these  are  plainly  of  the  installment  plan  type.  On 
the  walls  are  numerous  signed  photographs  of  musical 
comedy  favourites,  and  gaudily  coloured  "Art"  repro 
ductions.  The  room  is  in  darkness.  As  the  curtain 
rises  a  key  is  heard  turning  in  the  lock.  PAT  enters 
from  the  door  to  the  hall.  She  is  tired,  dejected. 
NORA,  wearing  a  simple  house  gown,  enters  from  the 
dining-room. 

NORA.  Hush! 

PAT.  Are  they  here? 

NORA.  Mom's  waiting  in  there. 

PAT.  Where's  Dan? 

NORA.  Gone  to  the  hotel  for  Pop. 

PAT.  Did  you  beat  'em  here? 

NORA.  Yes. 

PAT.  Gee,  that  was  luck.    I  was  scared  green.     [She 
turns  on  the  light.']     What'd  you  tell  'em? 

NORA.  What  you  said.     I  took  sick  before  the  show  and 
had  to  come  home. 

PAT.  Did  they  say  anythin'  about  me? 

NORA.  Asked  me  if  I  knew  where  you  were.     I  said  I 
left  you  at  the  theatre. 

79 


80  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  iv 

PAT.  That's  good. 

NORA.  It's  twelve  o'clock.    Where  have  you  been? 

PAT.  [Sitting  wearily.]  Ridin'  round  on  the  "L"  tryin' 
to  get  up  nerve  to  face  Pop.  I'd  'a'  given  my  eye  teeth  to 
a  kept  this  from  him.  Too  late  now.  Mom'll  tell  him 
every  thin'. 

NORA.  [Peevishly.']  Oh,  if  you  hadn't  hidden  from  Mom. 

PAT.  I  got  rattled. 

NORA.  [Angrily.]  You  had  no  business  following  me. 

PAT.  Lucky  I  did  an'  found  you  before  it  was  too  late. 

NORA.  You've  only  gotten  yourself  into  trouble  and 
haven't  helped  me. 

PAT.  'Spose  I  thought  I  run  any  risk  with  Dan?  'Spose 
I  thought  for  a  minute  he  wouldn't  trust  me,  wouldn't  be 
lieve  I  was  true  an'  good,  no  matter  how  appearances  was 
against  me? 

NORA.  Don't  you  think  he'll  make  up? 

PAT.  I  don't  know  nor  I  don't  care.  Serves  me  right. 
If  I'd  a  kept  my  promise  to  Mom  to  watch  over  you  'stead 
of  bein'  so  took  up  with  my  own  business  that  I  left  you 
to  run  around  with  that  Simpson  woman,  it  all  needn't  have 
happened.  I'm  to  blame  an'  I  gotta  pay  for  it. 

NORA.  How  are  we  going  to  get  the  money  for  the  note? 

PAT.  We'll  save  it  outa  what  we  earn. 

NORA.  You  promised  you'd  get  it  from  Dan. 

PAT.  Ask  Dan  Mallory  for  money?  Ain't  there  any 
limit  to  what  you  want  me  to  do  for  you?  Ask  him  for 
money?  I'd  scrub  floors  first.  I'm  dead  to  the  woild. 
Make  me  a  cup  of  coffee,  will  you? 

[NORA  goes  out.     PAT  sits  a  moment  in  thought,  then 
begins  to  cry  softly. 

PAT.  Oh,  Dan,  Dan! 

[There  is  a  ring  at  the  door  bell.     PAT  starts  to  her 
feet.     MRS.  O'BRIEN  enters  from  the  bedroom. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Severely.]  So  you've  come  home,  have 
you?  [PAT  is  silent.  MRS.  O'BRIEN  opens  the  door. 
DAN  comes  in.]  Oh,  'tis  you,  Dan.  Where's  O'Brien? 


ACT  iv]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  81 

DAN.  I  couldn't  find  him.     He  hadn't  been  at  the  hotel. 

PAT.  Haven't  you  two  seen  Pop  tonight? 

DAN.  No. 

PAT.  Then  I  want  you  both  to  promise  me  that  you 
won't  say  nothin'  to  him  of  what  you  seen  tonight.  He'd 
only  make  a  muss  with  Crawford.  No  good'll  come  a  that. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  L&ve  you  an'  that  man  to  your  carryin1 
on!  No! 

PAT.  You  keep  quiet  an'  I'll  promise  never  to  see  Craw 
ford  again.  Don't  you  see  I'm  doin'  this  for  Pop's  sake? 
No  need  for  him  to  know. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  The  kind  of  a  girl  you  are. 

PAT.  [Sadly.]  The  kind  of  a  girl  I  am.  You'll  prom 
ise.  It's  the  last  think  I'll  ever  ask  you,  Mom.  Say  you 
will  for  his  sake,  for  the  sake  a  me  that  was  dear  to  you 
once,  say  you  won't  tell.- 

[MRS.  O'BRIEN  looks  at  her,  then  at  DAN.    PAT  goes 
over  quickly  to  DAN. 

PAT.  Won't  you  promise?     Are  you  goin'  to  tell? 

DAN.  Tell?  Do  you  think  I  want  to  break  your  father's 
heart  like  you've  broken  mine? 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  An'  you'll  promise  never  to  see  Craw 
ford  again? 

PAT.    Yes,  yes. 

[MRS.  O'BRIEN  looks  helplessly  at  DAN  who  shows  by 
a  look  that  she  must  consent. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Then  I  won't  tell. 

PAT.  That's  fixed. 

[She  turns  to  leave  the  room. 

DAN.  [Following.']  What  lie  are  you  goin'  to  frame  up 
for  your  father? 

PAT.  I'll  tell  him  it's  all  off  with  you  an'  me.  That's 
no  lie. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  You'll  have  to  think  a  somethin'  better 
nor  that  to  convince  your  father.  He'll  want  some  good 
reason  for  me  takin'  Nora  home  with  me. 

PAT.  You're  goin'  to  take  Nora  away  from  me? 


82  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  iv 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  It's  high  time  she  was  out  a  this. 

PAT.  Then  I  ain't  goin'  to  have  no  one.  You  don't 
think  I'm  fit  to  have  my  honey  lamb  around.  You  think 
I'd  make  my  sister  bad.  Oh,  my  God!  Oh,  my  God! 

[She  leaves  the  room  in  a  passion  of  tears. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Dan.  I  almost  misdoubt  me  own  senses. 
It's  hard  to  believe  her  bad.  Oh,  what's  to  become  of  her? 

[She  sits  and  begins  to  cry. 

DAN.  [Going  to  her.]  You  must  take  her  home  with  you. 
You  can't  leave  her  here  alone  to  be  tempted  again  by  that 
man.  No  one  knows  but  you  an'  me? 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  But  what  if  O'Brien's  gone  to  Craw 
ford's? 

DAN.  Crawford  won't  tell  him.  You  heard  him  say  he 
didn't  want  a  row  on  his  hands.  You'll  take  her.  Who'll 
stand  by  her  if  you  won't? 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  She  won't  listen  to  me.  [She  rises,  and 
goes  to  DAN.]  Help  me  to  persuade  her.'  I've  no  one  to 
lean  on  but  you,  boy.  You'll  have  a  talk  with  her? 

DAN.  Yes. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  An'  you  won't  leave  me  to  face  O'Brien 
alone? 

DAN.  [Soothing  her.]  Don't  worry.    It'll  be  all  right. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  God  love  you,  Danny  boy. 

[She  goes  into  the  bedroom.  DAN  stands  looking 
after  MRS.  O'BRIEN.  NORA  enters  hurriedly,  ex 
citedly. 

NORA.  [Indignantly.]  What's  this  about  me  going  home? 
Pat  says  Mom's  going  to  take  me  away. 

DAN.  She  thinks  it  best. 

NORA.  [Angrily.]  I  don't  want  to  go  home.  I  can't  live 
down  on  that  farm  now.  I  won't.  No  fun  nor  nothing. 
I've  had  enough  to  bear  without  being  dragged  into  the 
country.  Why,  they've  promised  me  a  part  in  the  next 
show.  Besides,  I  ain't  going  to  run  away  and  have  those 
girls  gossiping  about  me.  [DAN  turns  to  her.]  I'll  get 


ACT  iv]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  83 

even  with  Sylvia  Simpson  for  getting  me  into  this  mess. 
Jealous  cat! 

DAN.  Jealous?     Of  what? 

NORA.  Of  everything.  'Cause  I'm  younger  and  prettier 
than  she  is.  'Cause  I'm  going  to  have  the  part  she  wanted. 
Talking  about  me  to  people. 

DAN.  She  said  you  were  at  Crawford's  room  tonight. 

NORA.  I  know.    Sent  Mom  and  Pop  chasing  after  me. 

DAN.  Oh,  you  know  that? 

NORA.  [Flustered.]  Yes.    Mom  told  me. 

DAN.  Your  mother  told  you? 

NORA.  Yes,  and  that  ain't  the  worst  of  it.  Oh,  Dan, 
we're  in  awful  trouble. 

DAN.  What  is  it? 

NORA.  We — er — we — er 

DAN.  Come  on,  if  I'm  to  get  you  out  of  this  I  must  know 
all  about  it. 

NORA.  I'll  tell  you,  Dan,  because  I  know  you'll  stand  by 
us  for  Mom's  sake. 

DAN.  Well? 

NORA.  We  owe  money  and — and — Pat  says  we  can  save 
it  out  of  what  we  earn.  But  how  are  we  goin'  to  save  three 
hundred  dollars? 

DAN.  Three  hundred  dollars!  Don't  bother  about  it 
any  more.  I'll  pay  it  for  you. 

NORA.  That  wouldn't  do. 

DAN.  Why  not? 

NORA.  I'd  rather  you'd  give  me  the  money. 

DAN.  Give  you  the  money?  How  can  you  explain  it  to 
Pat? 

NORA.  She  can't  say  anything  if  the  note  is  paid. 

DAN.  The  note? 

NORA.  Well,  we  had  to  raise  money  somehow.  Pat  prom 
ised  she'd  get  it  from  you,  but  she  won't  now  you've  quar 
relled. 

DAN.  How  do  you  know  we've  quarrelled? 

NORA.  [Lying.]  Pat  told  me. 


84  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  iv 

DAN.  All  right.    I'll  give  it  to  you. 

NORA.  Oh,  Dan,  you  are  good.  You  don't  know  what 
you've  saved  us  from. 

DAN.  That's  all  right.     I'd  like  to  speak  to  Pat. 

NORA.  Oh,  you'll  spoil  everything  if  you  tell  Pat. 

DAN.  Leave  it  to  me.  I'm  only  goin'  to  do  what's  right. 
[NoRA  goes.  DAN  stands  pondering  the  information 
he  has  secured  from  NORA.  He  feels  that  PAT'S  pres 
ence  in  CRAWFORD'S  room  is  in  some  way  connected 
with  NORA.  PAT  enters. 

PAT.  [Coldly.]  Well? 

DAN.  Will  you  let  me  speak  to  you,  please? 

PAT.  What  can  we  have  to  say  to  each  other  now? 

DAN.  Nothin'  about  tonight.  Let  that  go  as  it  lays. 
I'd  like  to  ask  a  favour  of  you. 

PAT.  What  right 

DAN.  [Hastily.]  I've  no  rights  now.  But  I  want  your 
help.  Forget  me  in  this.  It's  for  your  mother. 

PAT.  I  guess  she  don't  want  nothin'  from  me,  not  love 
even. 

DAN.  She's  been  hard  on  you. 

PAT.  She  thinks  I  gave  her  cause. 

DAN.  What  do  you  think? 

PAT.  [Bitterly.]  I  ain't  thinkin'.     I  don't  care. 

DAN.  But  I  know  there's  nothin'  you  wouldn't  do  for  her. 

PAT.  [Sadly.]  That's  right,  though  she  doesn't  seem  wise 
to  the  fact. 

DAN.  She  wants  you  to  come  home. 

PAT.  [Joyfully.]  Come  home  with  her!  Why?  [DAN 
is  confused.  PAT  smiles  bitterly.]  Oh,  I  see.  She  can't 
trust  me.  She  don't  believe  I'd  keep  my  promise.  An' 
all  I've  ever  been  to  her  don't  count  for  nothin'. 

DAN.  No,  no,  she  loves  you.  She's  willin'  to  stand  by 
you. 

PAT.  [Indignantly.]  Then  why  doesn't  she  come  to  me 
an'  say  it  herself?  Why  does  she  send  you? 

DAN.  She  thought  you  mightn't  listen  to  her.    She  hoped 


ACT  iv]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  85 

I  could  persuade  you.    That  time's  past.    I  see  it's  useless 
to  plead  with  you.    You  won't  say  yes? 

PAT.  I  can't  go.  What  do  you  think  I  am?  Go  down 
home  an'  have  you  an'  Mom  overlookin'  things,  bein'  sorry 
for  me,  kind  to  me.  Not  for  mine,  thank  you. 

DAN.  No,  I  promise  you  we'll  forget 

PAT.  An'  forgive.    Wait  till  I  ask  it,  will  you? 

DAN.  Give  me  a  reason  why  you  don't  do  what  your 
mother  asks.  I  must  tell  her  somethin'.  Is  it  because  you 
love  Crawford? 

PAT.  [Scornfully. ]  Love  him.    Love  him! 

DAN.  Then  why? 

PAT.  Look  here,  what  right  have  you  to  stand  there  givin' 
me  the  thoid  degree?  I  can't  go,  and  I  won't  go.  And  that 
settles  it. 

[She  starts  to  leave  the  room. 

DAN.  Is  it  the  money? 

PAT.  [Surprised.]  The  money? 

DAN.  Nora's  told  me.     I'm  going  to  pay  the  note. 

PAT.  You're  goin'  to  pay  Crawford? 

DAN.  Crawford!  Then  it  is  Crawford!  Now  I  see. 
[He  rushes  to  the  door  to  the  bedroom.]  Mrs.  O'Brien! 
Mrs.  O'Brien! 

[Enter  MRS.  O'BRIEN. 

PAT.  [Despairingly.]  What  are  you  goin'  to  do? 

DAN.  I'm  goin'  to  show  you  up.  I'm  goin'  to  tell  your 
mother  the  kind  of  a  girl  you  are;  tell  her  I  know  all  about 
you  an'  Crawford;  tell  her  that  you  didn't  stop  at  any 
lengths  to  save  your  sister;  that  it  was  Nora  who  owed  the 
money  to  Crawford,  Nora  who  was  in  that  room;  tell  her 
that  I'm  the  biggest  fool  on  earth,  the  lowest  dog  alive  to 
doubt  for  one  minute  the  girl  I  love,  the  girl  who's  too  good 
for  me,  too  good  for  any  of  us. 

[Much  moved,  he  turns  away.    MRS.  O'BRIEN  goes 
quickly  to  PAT. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Pat.    Oh,  my  girl.     [There  is  a  ring  at 


86  THE  CHORUS  LADY  [ACT  IT 

the  door  bell.]     'Tis  O'Brien.     [DAN  opens  the  door.    En 
ter  O'BRIEN.]     Where  have  you  been? 

O'BRIEN.  To  Crawford's. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  Why,  the  girls  are  here. 

DAN.  Nora  was  at  home,  in  bed,  asleep. 

O'BRIEN.   So!    An'  [pointing  to  PAT]  where  was  she? 

PAT.  Where  was  I? 

[A  pause.    DAN  and  MRS.  O'BRIEN  indicate  their  fear 
that  CRAWFORD  has  told  everything  to  O'BRIEN. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  [Reassuringly.]  That  talk  of  Nora  and 
Crawford  was  gossip,  the  clatter  of  an  idle  tongue. 

O'BRIEN.  Was  it?  Then  what's  this?  [He  shows  a 
slip  of  paper  crumpled  in  his  hand.  He  goes  to  PAT.] 
What's  this?  If  it's  idle  talk,  why  won't  this  man  Craw 
ford  see  me?  If  it's  gossip,  how  comes  he  to  have  a  note 
for  money  I  never  had,  an'  signed  by  me?  "Tell  him  I 
can't  see  him,"  that  was  his  message  by  his  man.  "But 
that  I  send  him  a  souvenir  of  my  acquaintance  with  his 
daughter,  an'  that  I'll  thank  him  for  the  money."  Well, 
girl,  haven't  you  a  tongue  in  your  head?  Who  signed 
"P.  O'Brien"  to  that  paper?  You  dared  to — use  my  name. 
[There  is  a  pause.  PAT  is  nonplussed.  DAN  comes 

tO  O'BRIEN. 

DAN.  It's  her  own  name. 

O'BRIEN.  What? 

DAN.  [Taking  the  note.]  It's  signed  "P.  O'Brien."  Why 
shouldn't  she  sign  it?  Why  shouldn't  she  get  money  from 
Crawford?  It's  owin'  to  me,  an'  what's  mine's  hers. 

PAT.  [Tearfully.]  Oh,  Dan. 

DAN.  Crawford  an'  me's  had  a  run  in.  I've  quit  him 
an'  he's  sore  tryin'  to  make  trouble. 

O'BRIEN.  What  would  she  be  doin'  with  that  amount  a 
money? 

DAN.  That  would  be  tellin'.    That's  our  secret. 

O'BRIEN.    But 

MRS.   O'BRIEN.  [Going  to  O'BRIEN.]  Mind  your  own 


ACT  iv]  THE  CHORUS  LADY  87 

business,  Patrick.    It's  the  excitable  man  ye  are,  careerin' 
all  over  the  town,  an'  us  waitin'  supper  for  ye. 

O'BRIEN.  [He  goes  to  PAT.]  Forgive  me,  girl.     'Twas 
all  a  mistake. 

PAT.  Forget  it,  Pop. 

[She  kisses  him. 
O'BRIEN.  Where's  Nora? 

PAT.  In  the  kitchen.     [O'BRIEN  goes.]     Mom,  be  spe 
cial  kind  to  Nora.     She's  as  good  as  gold. 

MRS.  O'BRIEN.  God  love  you  for  the  good  girl  ye  are, 
and  may  HE  forgive  your  ould  mother. 

[She  folds  PAT  in  her  arms,  kisses  her,  then  follows 

O'BRIEN. 

DAN.  I'd  like  to  say  "Amen"  to  that.    You'll  come  home 
with  me  now,  Pat? 

[PAT  goes  smiling  into  DAN'S  oittstretched  arms.    She 

sighs  and  kisses  him. 

PAT.    Dan,  we'll  settle  down  like  a  couple  of  Reubens. 
Us  an'  the  cows. 


THE  END 


THE    SHOW    SHOP 

A  FARCICAL  SATIRK  IN  FOUR  ACTS 


THE  PERSONS  OF  THE  PLAY 

SADIE 

WILBUR  TOMPKINS 

JEROME  BELDEN 

MAX  ROSENBAUM 

EFFIE  BRINKLEY 
JOHNNY  BRINKLEY 
MRS.  DEAN 
BETTINA  DEAN 
A  NIGHT  CLERK 
MR.  BILLINGS 
GRANBY  SMITH 
A  SCENE  PAINTER 
MAGINNIS 
GOLDMAN 
HICKSON 
STEVE 

Miss  DONAHUE 
Miss  FARRINGTON 
Miss  TOBY 
MONK 
WALTERS 

The  Scenes  of  the  play  are  laid  in  the  office  of  MAX 
ROSENBAUM,  New  York  City,  the  parlour  of  the  Palace 
Hotel,  Punxatawney,  the  stage  of  a  Broadway  Theatre  and 
the  appartment  of  JEROME  BELDEN. 

The  action  covers  a  period  of  time  from  August  to  Octo 
ber,  a  month  intervening  between  the  first  and  second  acts, 
six  weeks  between  the  second  and  third,  and  fourteen  hours 
between  the  third  and  fourth. 


THE  SHOW  SHOP 

Original  cast,  as  first  presented  at  the  Hudson  Theatre, 

New  York,  December  31,  1914. 

It  is  arranged  in  the  order  in  which  the  characters  first 

appear. 

SADIE Edna  Aug 

WILBUR  TOMPKINS     .     .     .     Ned  A.  Sparks 
JEROME  BELDEN     ....     Douglas  Fairbanks 
MAX  ROSENBAUM  ....      George  Sidney 
EFFIE  BRINKLEY    ....     Olive  May 
JOHNNY  BRINKLEY     .     .     .      William  Sampson 

MRS.  DEAN Zelda  Sears 

BETTINA  DEAN Patricia  Collinge 

A  NIGHT  CLERK    ....     Sam  Coit 

MR.  BILLINGS Stapleton  Kent 

GRANBY  SMITH Felix  Krembs 

A  SCENE  PAINTER  ....      William  Butler 

MAGINNIS Harry  G.  Bates 

GOLDMAN George  Colt 

HICKSON Walter  Young 

STEVE Charles  Emerson 

Miss  DONAHUE      ....      Lillian  Tucker 
Miss  FARRINGTON  ....     Rhy  Alexander 

Miss  TOBY Becky  Bruce 

MONK Al  Gilmore 

WALTERS  .  Edward  Moore 


THE  SHOW  SHOP 

THE  FIRST  ACT 

The  private  office,  in  a  Broadway  theatre  building,  of  MAX 
ROSENBAUM,  theatrical  manager.  On  the  right  of  the 
room  is  a  door  opening  on  a  hall  that  leads  to  a  private 
entrance  to  the  stage,  on  the  left  a  door  to  the  office  of 
ROSENBAUM'S  stage  director,  WILBUR  TOMPKINS,  and 
at  the  back  another  door  to  the  outer  offices  and  the 
waiting-room.  At  the  left  of  the  room  are  several 
chairs  and  a  table  on  which  stands  a  scenic  artist's 
model  of  a  stage  setting,  on  the  right  a  flat-topped  desk 
and  a  sivivel  chair.  Against  the  walls  are  filing  cabinets 
and  above  them,  encircling  the  room,  is  a  row  of  framed 
"flashlights"  of  scenes  from  a  ROSENBAUM  production. 
In  the  most  prominent  position,  over  the  centre  door, 
is  a  large  framed  photograph  of  ROSENBAUM.  Tacked 
to  the  walls  are  several  (( half-sheets"  to  be  used  in 
advertising  ROSENBAUM'S  forthcoming  production,  "The 
Wallop." 

It  is  eleven  o'clock  of  a  morning  in  August.  On  a  bench  in 
the  waiting-room  is  the  usual  row  of  patient  and  eter 
nally  hopeful  actors  and  actresses,  seeking  positions. 
They  exchange  greetings  with  SADIE,  ROSENBAUM'S 
secretary,  as  she  comes  through  the  waiting-room  into 
the  private  office.  She  closes  the  door. 

SADIE  is  pretty,  quick-witted,  clever-tongued,  apparently 
bored  with  life  yet  incurably  romantic.  She  takes  a 
passionate  interest  in  the  affairs  of  the  office,  waging 
an  eternal  feud  with  TOMPKINS,  the  stage  director;  in 
fact,  assuming  a  proprietary  attitude  toward  the  busi 
ness,  and,  while  admiring  ROSENBAUM  enormously,  does 
93 


94  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  i 

not  hesitate  to  criticise  even  him.  She  is  carrying  the 
morning's  mail,  several  telegrams,  a  manuscript  of  a 
play  and  a  set  of  <f  parts."  As  she  moves  about  the 
room  she  sings  a  popular,  sentimental  ballad  of  the  day. 

SADIE.  [Singing.]  "You  made  me  what  I  yam  today " 

[She  picks  up  a  newspaper,  looks  at  it,  smiles  scornfully. 
Has  she  got  her  picture  in  the  paper  again?     [She  throws 
it  down.] 

[Singing.]  "I  hope  you're  satisfied, 

You  dragged  me  down,  and  down  and  down, 
That  cannot  be  deny-ed." 

[Laying  the  parts  on  the  desk. 
"I  hope  I've  copied  these  parts  all  right,  and 

now  that  we  must  part 

[She  slams  the  manuscript  on  the  desk. 
I  wish  you  all  kinds  of  good  luck. 
[Singing.]  "  'Tis  the  coise  of  an  achin'  heart, 

Tis  the  coise " 

[The  telephone  bell  rings  sharply.  She  picks  up  the  re 
ceiver.  Sure,  I  want  it.  7776  Bryant.  [Wearily.] 
7-7-7-6  Bryant.  [Freezingly.]  I  beg  your  pardon ;  I  gave 
you  the  right  number.  [She  listens  impatiently,  then  pas 
sionately  exclaims.]  As  Heaven  is  my  judge,  I  gave  you 
the  right  number.  [She  waits.]  As  woman  to  woman. 
[She  listens  again,  then  grows  furiously  angry.]  Well, 
Madam,  if  you'll  give  me  a  chance  I'll  explain.  I  called  up 
Central  and  said  I  wanted  the  box-office  and  wanted  to 

speak  to  the  Treasurer,  please—         Yes,  that's  right 

Yeppie.  Three  sevens  and  a  six.  [Laughs  affectedly.]  Oh, 
that's  all  right,  dearie.  Yes,  I'll  hold  it.  [She  stands  wait 
ing,  shifting  from  one  foot  to  another,  and  changing  the 
receiver  from  hand  to  hand.  She  sighs  and  perches  on  the 
end  of  the  desk  and,  presently,  to  relieve  the  tedium,  begins 
to  sing  the  ballad  again,  emphasising  its  pathos.]  Hello. 
[Crossly.]  Hello!  [Smiling  coyly.]  Oh,  is  that  you, 
Harry?  This  is  Sadie.  What  did  the  manager  say  about 


ACT  i]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  95 

letting  Mr.  Rosenbaum  have  your  stage  for  rehearsal  today? 
From  eleven  till  one?  Much  obliged.  Say,  Harry,  I'd  like 
a  couple  for  tonight.  Selling  out!  Is  that  so?  Ah,  go  on, 
Harry,  slip  me  a  couple  and  mark  'em  "Press."  What! 
Take  me  home  after  the  show?  Sure,  if  anybody's  got  to 
stand  on  my  feet  in  the  subway  I'd  just  as  lief  it'd  be  you, 
darling. 

[As  she  replaces  the  receiver  TOMPKINS,  a  lean,  lank 
individual  of  saturnine  appearance,  the  incarnation 
of  pessimism,  enters  from  his  office. 

TOMPKINS.  Hello,  Sadie!     Have  the  scene  models  come? 

SADIE.  No. 

TOMPKINS.  Get  on  that  phone  to  that  scenic  artist. 

SADIE.  Hello,  give  me  261  Greeley,  and  don't  keep  me 
waiting  like  the  last  time. 

TOMPKINS.  Give  him  my  love  and  ask  him  how  in  thun 
der  I'm  going  to  put  on  a  show  without  scenery. 

SADIE.  261  Greeley?  I'm  speaking  for  Mr.  Tompkins, 
Mr.  Rosenbaum's  stage  manager. 

TOMPKINS.  [Indignantly.]  Director!    Director! 

SADIE.  What  about  those  models  for  our  new  play,  "The 
Wallop"?  [To  TOMPKINS.]  Some  title! 

TOMPKINS.  Some  play! 

SADIE.  Mr.  Rosenbaum  thinks  it's  a  masterpiece. 

TOMPKINS.  It's  a  mess. 

SADIE.  What?  All  right!  [To  TOMPKINS.]  Be  right 
over. 

TOMPKINS.  Got  the  script  and  parts  ready? 

SADIE.  [Giving  him  the  manuscript  and  the  parts.'] 
There's  your  copy.  Take  'em  away  and  chloroform  'em. 
I've  had  to  copy  the  parts  for  this  show,  but  you  bet  your 
life  I'll  never  go  to  see  it. 

TOMPKINS.  There's  going  to  be  a  whole  lot  of  people  side 
step  this.  Where's  the  fourth  act? 

SADIE.  Hasn't  been  handed  in  yet.    I  dread  it. 

TOMPKINS.  Cheer  up,  sister;  it  can't  be  any  worse  than 
these. 


96  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  i 

SADIE.  Well,  if  it  is,  it's  going  to  make  those  three  acts 
awful  envious.  Oh,  here's  a  couple  of  letters  for  you. 

TOMPKINS.  [Opening  the  letters.']  Where's  Rosie? 

SADIE.  Over  to  K.  &  E.'s,  battling  for  a  route.  [She 
sings.]  "You  made  me  what  I  yam  today." 

TOMPKINS.  [Wearily.]  Must  you  do  that? 

SADIE.  I  can't  help  it  if  I  have  an  ear  for  music. 

TOMPKINS.  [Reading  the  letter.]  Gillette's  thrown  up 
her  part. 

[Disgusted,  he  throws  the  letter  on  the  desk. 

SADIE.  Isn't  that  the  limit!  I  told  Mr.  Rosenbaum  who 
to  get  for  that  part.  She's  coming  in  to  see  him  today. 

TOMPKINS.  Who  is  she? 

SADIE.  Bettina  Dean. 

TOMPKINS.  Huh! 

SADIE.  Best-looking  girl  that  has  been  in  this  office  this 
season. 

TOMPKINS.  Huh! 

[He  reads  the  second  letter. 

SADIE.  The  only  thing  that  worries  me  is,  if  Mr.  Rosen 
baum  doesn't  like  her,  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  play  the  part 
myself. 

TOMPKINS.  You  hate  yourself,  don't  you?  This  letter 
means  we  lose  Gilmore,  too. 

[He  throws  it  on  the  desk. 

SADIE.  Are  Gillette  and  Gilmore  married? 

TOMPKINS.  Yes,  poor  Gilmore. 

SADIE.  What  was  he  going  to  play?    Who  is  he,  anyhow? 

TOMPKINS.  Some  truck-driver  Rosie  engaged  to  play  a 
man  about  town. 

SADIE.  Lucky  it's  a  small  part.  So  hard  to  get  leading 
men.  All  of  them  dancing  at  the  cabarets. 

TOMPKINS.  [Going.']  Time  some  of  the  bluffs  in  this 
business  were  doing  something. 

SADIE.  There  are  a  lot  of  actors  waiting  out  there  to  see 
you. 

TOMPKINS.  Actors!     There  are  none. 


ACT  i]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  971 

SADIE.  What'll  I  do? 

TOMPKINS.  Get  rid  of  'em. 

SADIE.  How? 

TOMPKINS.  Tell  'em  I'm  dead. 

SADIE.  That's  going  to  keep  them  happy  all  day. 

[TOMPKINS  turns,  glares  at  SADIE,  then  goes  into  his 
office,  slamming  the  door.     SADIE  is  laughing  when 
the  door  from  the  waiting-room  is  thrown  open  and 
a  breezy,  good-looking  type  of  the  wealthy  American 
youth  of  today  comes  in  hurriedly.     It  is  JEROME 
BELDEN.    SADIE  rises  majestically,  walks  over  to  him 
and  points  to  the  letters  on  the  door. 
SADIE.  "Private"  isn't  painted  on  the  other  side  of  the 
door  just  to  make  it  look  stylish, 
JEROME.  I'm  looking  for  Mr.  Rosenbaum. 
SADIE.  That  doesn't  give  you  any  license  to  crowd  your 
personality  into  his  private  office. 

JEROME.  I'm  sorry.    I  saw  the  door  open  and  just  blew  in. 
SADIE.  The  wind's  shifted;  blow  out. 

[She  turns  away. 

JEROME.  [Following  her.']  I  want  to  see  Mr.  Rosenbaum. 
SADIE.  You  want  to  see  an  oculist.    There's  a  sign  out 
there — "No  Vacancies  for  Actors." 
JEROME.  I'm  not  an  actor.    I'm  a  business  man. 
SADIE.  What's  a  business  man  doing  in  a  theatrical  office? 
Who  are  you? 

JEROME.  Jerome  Belden. 

SADIE.  Jerome  Belden!  That's  a  swell  name,  but  it 
means  nothing  in  my  young  life.  Did  you  have  an  appoint 
ment? 

JEROME.  No,  but  I  must  see  him. 
SADIE.  [Sarcastically.']  Sorry,  but  he  isn't  in. 

[She  moves  to  the  chair  at  the  desk* 
JEROME.  When  will  he  be  back? 
SADIE.  When  he  returns,  fair  stranger. 
JEROME.  Don't  you  keep  tabs  on  Mr.  Rosenbaum? 
SADIE.  I'm  his  stenographer,  not  his  wife. 


98  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  i 

JEROME.  Oh!    Has  Miss  Dean  been  here? 

SADIE.  What  Miss  Dean? 

JEROME.  Bettina  Dean! 

SADIE.  I'm  not  allowed  to  divulge  office  secrets. 

[She  sits. 

JEROME.  [Offering  a  bill.]  Here. 

SADIE.  [Waving  it  aside.]  Nothing  doing. 

JEROME.  [Smiling.]  Oh,  go  on,  run  up  to  Huyler's. 

SADIE.  [Taking  it.]  That's  different.  Mother  told  me  I 
was  never  to  take  money  from  a  strange  gentleman.  But, 
gee,  none  of  the  fellows  I  know  have  any. 

JEROME.  [Sitting  across  from  her.]  Let's  get  down  to 
cases.  Have  you  ever  seen  Miss  Dean? 

SADIE.  Best-looking  girl  that  has  been  in  this  office  this 
season. 

JEROME.  [Offering  another  bill.]  Go  on,  get  another  box. 

SADIE.  One  box  a  day  is  my  limit. 

JEROME.  Look  here,  have  you  ever  been  in  love? 

SADIE.  [Sighing.]  It's  chronic  with  me. 

JEROME.  That's  the  way  I  feel  about  Miss  Dean.  I  want 
you  to  help  me. 

SADIE.  I'm  no  first  aid  to  stage-door  Johnnies. 

JEROME.  Johnnies?    I  want  to  marry  her. 

SADIE.  What?    My,  how  romantic! 

JEROME.  I  want  her  to  marry  me  and  give  up  the  stage. 
Her  mother  can't  see  that  at  all.  I  heard  last  night  that 
Mr.  Rosenbaum  is  to  see  her  today.  If  she  gets  this  engage 
ment  it's  all  off. 

SADIE.  Oh,  I  see.  [Sympathetically.]  Then  you'll  be 
parted. 

JEROME.  Now  you  see  what  we're  up  against. 

SADIE.  Isn't  real  life  just  like  the  stage? 

JEROME.  Now  come  on;  be  a  good  fellow.  Tell  me,  has 
she  been  here? 

SADIE.  Not  yet.    Her  appointment's  for  twelve  today. 

JEROME.  Good!  [He  rises  and  goes  to  the  door.]  That 
gives  me  a  chance  to  see  her  before  she  gets  here.  Say, 


ACT  i]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  99 

what's  your  favourite  brand  of  flower?  [SADIE  smiles.]  No? 
Well,  I'm  just  going  to  smother  you  in  violets. 

[He  leaves  hurriedly. 
SADIE.  [Wist f idly.]  Some  girls  have  all  the  luck. 

[TOMPKINS  bursts  in  from  his  office. 
TOMPKINS.  Where's  that  script? 

SADIE.  I  gave  it  to  you  once;  if  you're  going  to  mislay  it 
like  that  I'll  put  a  bell  on  it. 

[She  rises  and  gives  the  manuscript  to  him. 
TOMPKINS.  What  was  it  I  wanted  to  ask  you? 
SADIE.  How  should  I  know?    I'm  no  mind-reader. 
TOMPKINS.  Can  the  persiflage.     Oh,  yes,  what  theatre 
did  Rosie  get  for  rehearsal  today? 

SADIE.  You  can  have  the  stage  downstairs  from  eleven 
till  one. 

[MAX  ROSENBAUM,  a  jovial  embodiment  of  his  race, 
enters  briskly  from  the  outer  office.     He  carries  a 
theatrical  "route"  book. 
SADIE.  Good  morning,  Mr.  Rosenbaum. 
ROSENBAUM.  Hello,   Sadie.      [To   TOMPKINS.]      Hello, 
Sunshine.    We've  got  to  slam  this  show  through.    We  open 
in  two  weeks.    Sadie,  has  the  printer  sent  the  proof  of  that 
three-sheet? 

SADIE.  It's  right  outside. 
ROSENBAUM.  Bring  it  in. 

[SADIE  goes. 

TOMPKINS.  Get  a  good  route? 
ROSENBAUM.  A  pippin! 

[He  opens  the  book. 

TOMPKINS.  [Sarcastically.]  Well,   what   burgs   did  you 
horn  out  of  them? 

ROSENBAUM.  [Reading.]  We  open  in  Toronto,  jump  to 

Washington 

TOMPKINS.  Jump!    It's  a  leap! 

ROSENBAUM.  Yes,  but  if  I  can  get  the  President  to  see 
the  show. 

TOMPKINS.  What  have  you  got  against  Wilson? 


100  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  i 

ROSENBAUM.  I'll  get  him  to  endorse  it. 

TOMPKINS.  Why  should  he? 

ROSENBAUM.  Didn't  I  vote  for  him? 

TOMPKINS.  Where  do  we  scatter  after  Washington? 

ROSENBAUM.  Montreal,  then  Wilmington,  Schenectady, 
Hartford,  Rochester,  New  Haven,  Troy  and  Punxatawney. 

TOMPKINS.  Just  hitting  the  high  places.  What  are  you 
doing,  booking  "The  Wallop"  with  a  ouija  board? 

ROSENBAUM.  And  a  week  in  Philadelphia. 

TOMPKINS.  This  is  a  healthy  show  to  wake  up  Phila 
delphia. 

ROSENBAUM.  Say  it  will  wake  'em  up  so  hard,  it'll  give 
'em  insomnia. 

[He  places  the  route  book  on  the  desk.    SADIE  enters, 
carrying  a  roll  of  paper. 

SADIE.  Here's  the  proof  of  that  three-sheet. 

ROSENBAUM.  Here,  Sadie,  stand  up.  [ROSENBAUM  places 
a  chair.  SADIE  stands  on  it  and  holds  up  the  three-sheet. 
ROSENBAUM  reads.}  "Max  Rosenbaum  politely  proffers 
'The  Wallop,'  by  Edgerton  Porter,  staged  under  the  direc 
tion  of  Max  Rosenbaum  and  Wilbur  Tompkins." 

TOMPKINS.  [Satirically.']  Couldn't  you  work  your  mon 
icker  in  some  place  else? 

ROSENBAUM.  I  might  make  it,  "By  Max  Rosenbaum 
and —  [TOMPKINS  laughs.}  Well,  I  gave  the  author 

the  idea  and  a  lot  of  the  dialogue. 

TOMPKINS.  Why  pay  him  royalties?  Why  didn't  you 
write  it  yourself? 

ROSENBAUM.  I  haven't  time  to  do  the  hack  work.  Sadie, 
tell  the  printer  to  put  Max  on  one  line  and  Rosenbaum  on 
the  other,  and  cut  down  the  size  of  the  author's  name. 
Who  is  he,  anyway? 

[SADIE,  agreeing,  goes. 

[ROSENBAUM  puts  on  his  office-coat,  then  sits,  reading 
his  mail. 

TOMPKINS.  Got  a  minute? 


ACT  i]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  \0l 

ROSENBAUM.  I  haven't  a  thing  to  do  but  listen  to  your 
troubles.  What's  on  your  mind? 

TOMPKINS.  [Sitting.]  Oh,  nothing!  First  rehearsal  at 
eleven,  no  last  act,  no  scenery,  no  leading  woman 

ROSENBAUM.  Gillette  quit? 

TOMPKINS.  [Sarcastically.]    She's  ill. 

[He  hands  ROSENBAUM  a  letter. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Reading  it.]  She'd  had  a  better  offer. 

TOMPKINS.  It's  like  her  to  wait  till  the  first  rehearsal. 

ROSENBAUM.  I  was  afraid  she'd  throw  us  down.  I've 
got  just  the  girl.  I  told  her  that  if  anything  happened  to 
Gillette,  I'd  give  her  the  first  chance.  I've  an  appointment 
with  her  today  at  twelve. 

[He  presses  the  buzzer  on  his  desk. 

TOMPKINS.  [Handing  ROSENBAUM  the  other  letter.] 
Gilmore's  quit,  too. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Reading.]  Well,  you  didn't  like  him. 
What  kind  of  a  type  do  you  want? 

TOMPKINS.  He  ought  to  look  like  a  clubman,  wear  his 
clothes  well.  He  sings  a  song  in  the  first  act,  dances  a 
tango 

ROSENBAUM.  For  sixty  dollars  a  week,  you  want  a  cross 
between  John  Drew,  Caruso  and  Vernon  Castle.  That's 
easy!  [SADIE  rushes  in.]  Sadie,  telephone  Miss  Dean,  over 
to  the  St.  Agnes:  tell  her  not  to  wait  until  twelve  o'clock, 
but  to  come  right  over. 

SADIE.  [Disconsolately.]  Right  over? 

ROSENBAUM.  Yes,  and  make  out  a  couple  of  contracts 
and  leave  the  salary  blank. 

[SADIE  rushes  out. 

TOMPKINS.  Is  it  Bettina  Dean? 

ROSENBAUM.  Yes. 

TOMPKINS.  Oh,  Lord! 

ROSENBAUM.  What  is  it? 

TOMPKINS.  Has  a  mother,  hasn't  she? 

ROSENBAUM.  Must  have  had  a  father,  too.  What's  the 
matter  with  mother? 


THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  i 

TOMPKINS.  If  Mamma  Dean  is  going  to  be  on  this  job, 
you  won't  want  a  stage  manager  for  this  show,  you'll  want 
a  lion  tamer. 

[He  goes  into  his  office.    SADIE  enters. 
SADIE.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brinkley  calling. 
ROSENBAUM.  Show  'em  in,  show  'em  in.    Come  in,  Effie. 
EFFIE.  [Entering.']     Well,  Rosie?  [SADIE  goes. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Shaking  hands.}  Where's  Johnny? 
EFFIE.  Somewhere  in  the  rear.    That  man's  always  leav 
ing  Buffalo  just  as  I'm  pulling  into  the  Grand  Central. 
JOHNNY.  [Entering.']  Who  are  you  knocking  now? 
ROSENBAUM.  [Shaking  hands. ,]  Well,  well,  Johnny! 
[EFFIE  BRINKLEY  is  a  plump,  pretty,  jolly  woman  of 
thirty-five,  her  bleached  hair,  too  youthjul  hat,  and 
gown,  indicating  clearly  the  passe  soubrette.     Her 
husband,  JOHNNY,  a  small,  spare  man  in  the  fifties, 
has  the  gloomy  manner  and  dejected  appearance  that 
is  so  often  characteristic  of  the  comedian  in  private 
life. 

ROSENBAUM.  Here,  sit  down,  sit  down. 
EFFIE.  Didn't  I  tell  you  he'd  be  the  same  old  Rosie? 
ROSENBAUM.  Why  not? 
JOHNNY.  You're  a  great  manager,  now. 
ROSENBAUM.  Anybody  who's  had  one  success  is  a  great 
manager. 

[EFFIE  and  JOHNNY  sit.    ROSENBAUM  gets  a  box  of 

cigars. 

EFFIE.  Johnny  didn't  want  to  come. 
ROSENBAUM.  [Reproachfully.']  Johnny  and  you  knew  me 

when  I 

JOHNNY.  I  never  bank  on  that  "I  knew  him  when"  thing. 

[He  takes  a  cigar. 

EFFIE.  The  sight  of  you,  Rosie,  takes  me  back  to  'Frisco. 
JOHNNY.  Remember  that  joint  we  all  lived  in? 
ROSENBAUM.  The  House  of  a  Thousand  Prunes. 

[They  laugh.    ROSENBAUM  sits  at  his  desk. 


ACT  i]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  103 

EFFIE.  My,  but  five  years  makes  a  big  difference  in  this 
business! 

ROSENBAUM.  Effie,  you  don't  look  a  day  older. 

EFFIE.  It's  my  grand  new  liquid  rouge. 

JOHNNY.  And  I  just  paid  three  dollars  to  regild  her 
dome. 

ROSENBAUM.  How's  the  world  using  you? 

JOHNNY.  We're  still  among  the  deserving  poor. 

ROSENBAUM.  Where  have  you  been  keeping  yourself? 

EFFIE.  Hiding  out  in  the  alfalfa. 

ROSENBAUM.  You  ought  to  be  on  Broadway. 

JOHNNY.  We  haven't  a  look-in.    I  haven't  that  sex  appeal. 

EFFIE.  Isn't  it  funny  some  New  York  manager  doesn't 
take  a  violent  fancy  to  Johnny? 

JOHNNY.  Hush,  Effie,  you  make  me  feel  like  an  aban 
doned  woman. 

ROSENBAUM.  What  can  I  do  for  you? 

EFFIE.  Well,  a  couple  of  jobs  would  come  in  handy. 

JOHNNY.  Anything  in  this  play  you're  putting  on? 

ROSENBAUM.  I'll  see,  Johnny.  [He  looks  at  the  "cast 
sheet"  on  his  desk.]  There's  a  bit  in  the  last  act. 

JOHNNY.  One  of  those  bad  butlers? 

ROSENBAUM.  No,  a  chauffeur. 

EFFIE.  Anything  for  me?  We  always  go  together.  He's 
too  darn  attractive  to  leave  lying  around  loose. 

ROSENBAUM.  There's  a  housekeeper.  But,  oh,  you 
couldn't  afford  to  play  them. 

EFFIE   The  only  thing  an  actor  can't  afford  to  be  is  idle. 

JOHNNY.  We're  eating  on  the  last  link  of  my  gold  watch 
and  chain.  What  do  they  pay? 

ROSENBAUM.  Hold  fast. 

JOHNNY.  [Clutching  his  chair.]  Spring  it! 

ROSENBAUM.  Seventy-five  dollars  for  the  two  of  them. 

JOHNNY.  [Gasping.]  Air!    I  want  air! 

ROSENBAUM.  I  tell  you  what:  we'll  make  it  a  hundred. 

[He  presses  the  buzzer. 

EFFIE.  Now,  Rosie,  we  don't  want  to  work  you. 


104  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  i 

ROSENBAUM.  What's  money  between  friends?  [SADIE 
bustles  in.~\  Sadie,  make  out  a  contract  for  Erne  and  John 
Brinkley  at  One  Hundred.  [To  EFFIE.]  I'll  mail  it  to  you. 

SADIE.  Mrs.  Dean  and  Miss  Dean  are  waiting  to  see  you. 

ROSENBAUM.  When  I  ring,  show  them  in.     [SADIE  goes.] 

EFFIE.  Is  Betty  Dean  to  be  in  the  company? 

ROSENBAUM.  I'm  figuring  on  her  for  the  lead.  Do  you 
know  her? 

EFFIE.  Know  her?  Many's  the  two  weeks'  notice  her 
mother  and  I  have  read  off  the  same  call-board.  Haven't 
seen  her  for  years  until  she  turned  up  this  summer. 

ROSENBAUM.  Can  the  girl  act? 

EFFIE.  She  should  if  she's  anything  like  her  mother, 
Matilda  Kent.  You've  heard  of  her.  Used  to  play  leading 
business. 

JOHNNY.  I  thought  that  Betty  was  going  to  marry  that 
young  fellow  who's  been  hanging  around. 

EFFIE.  Oh,  no;  he  insists  that  Betty  give  up  the  stage. 
Matilda  gave  up  a  big  career  to  marry.  She  won't  let  Betty 
make  the  same  mistake. 

JOHNNY.  Jerry  is  one  of  the  idle  rich,  but  he's  a  nice  kid. 

EFFIE.  Yes,  but  when  you  think  of  the  late  Mr.  Dean, 
you  can't  blame  Matilda  for  being  something  of  a  pessimist 
when  it  comes  to  love.  She's  devoted  her  life  to  Betty  and 
she's  determined  to  get  her  on  Broadway. 

JOHNNY.  Then  no  man,  woman  or  child  will  stop  her. 
She's  some  warrior,  is  Matilda. 

ROSENBAUM.  Johnny,  you're  throwing  an  awful  scare  into 
me. 

EFFIE.  Don't  mind  Johnny.  He  always  was  an  artist 
with  a  hammer.  I  like  Matilda.  You  take  Betty.  She's  a 
find  for  some  manager.  Where  are  the  parts? 

ROSENBAUM.  Here. 

[EFFIE  and  JOHNNY  rise.  ROSENBAUM  hands  a  part 
of  two  "sides"  to  EFFIE  and  another  of  three  "sides" 
to  JOHNNY.  They  look  at  them,  then  at  ROSEN 
BAUM,  who  smiles  apologetically. 


ACT  i]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  105 

EFFIE.  All  of  this? 

ROSENBAUM.  Oh,  that's  all  right,  Effie,  you  can  build 
it  up. 

EFFIE.  Are  you  engaging  me  as  an  actress  or  an  architect? 
JOHNNY.  Cheer  up,  Effie;  if  anyone  in  the  audience  winks, 
they'll  miss  me. 

EFFIE.  Where  are  we  rehearsing? 

ROSENBAUM.  We're  using  the  stage  downstairs.    You  can 
go  out  that  way. 

[He  indicates  the  door  at  the  right  of  the  room. 
EFFIE.  Good-bye,  Rosie. 

[She  shakes  hands  and  starts  to  go. 
JOHNNY.  [Shaking  hands.]  Rosie,  you've  been  immense 
to  us. 

ROSENBAUM.  Oh,  that's  all  right. 
EFFIE.  Come  over  to  see  us. 
ROSENBAUM.  Sure. 
JOHNNY.  We'll  have  some  prunes. 

[JOHNNY  and  EFFIE  leave.  ROSENBAUM  pushes  the 
buzzer  and  then,  sitting  at  the  desk,  assumes  a  man 
agerial  attitude,  affecting  to  be  very  busy  in  order 
to  impress  MRS.  DEAN  and  BETTY,  who  are  shown 
in  by  SADIE.  MRS.  DEAN  is  a  woman  of  fifty,  shrewd, 
capable,  dominated  by  one  idea  only,  and  that  the 
furthering  of  her  daughter's  success  on  the  stage;  in 
a  word,  the  typical  "stage  mother,"  the  terror  of 
managers  and  the  despair  of  stage  directors.  Her 
nondescript  bonnet  and  her  shabby  blue  serge  suit 
are  in  striking  contrast  to  the  exquisitely  charming 
attire  of  her  daughter,  BETTINA,  a  very  pretty  girl 
of  twenty,  who  bows  shyly  to  ROSENBAUM,  on  whom 
her  mother  advances  with  an  air  of  grim  determina 
tion. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Rising.]  Good  morning,  Miss  Dean,  Mrs. 
Dean.     Sit  down,  please.     [They  sit.]     Well,  Miss  Dean, 
are  you  at  liberty  to  consider  an  offer? 
MRS.  DEAN.  [Interposing.]  That  depends. 


106  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  i 

ROSENBAUM.  What  did  you  do  last  season? 

BETTY.  I  played  Mary  Turner  in  "Within  the  Law." 

MRS.  DEAN.  She  was  the  original,  in  the  number  13  com 
pany. 

BETTY.  Oh,  I  hope  it  isn't  another  crook.  I'm  so  sick 
of  crime. 

ROSENBAUM.  There  isn't  a  crook  in  the  play. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Why,  Mr.  Rosenbaum,  what  a  daring  de 
parture! 

ROSENBAUM.  Oh,  I've  got  a  novelty. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Don't  tell  me  you've  found  a  playwright 
with  a  new  idea! 

ROSENBAUM.  Oh,  no;  everything  in  it  has  been  done  a 
thousand  times,  but  it's  got  a  new  twist  and  a  good  religious 
punch. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Complacently.]  Betty  was  wonderful  in 
"The  Christian." 

BETTY.  What  sort  of  a  part  is  this? 

ROSENBAUM.  Pathos,  comedy,  emotion,  the  whole  bunch 
of  tricks.  Do  you  think  you  can  handle  it? 

MRS.  DEAN.  Mere  child's  play  for  Betty? 

BETTY.  [Protesting.]  Oh,  Mother! 

ROSENBAUM.  [Drily.]  You're  not  at  all  prejudiced. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Taking  press  notices  from  her  bag.]  Mr. 
Rosenbaum,  I  don't  ask  you  to  take  a  mother's  word  for 
her  daughter's  ability.  Listen:  [Reading.]  "The  comedy 
of  a  Mrs.  Fiske,  the  emotion  of  a  Duse,  the  grace  of  a 
Pavlowa  and  the  charm  of  an  Ethel  Barry  more."  That's  a 
slight  tribute  to  Betty  from  the  Oscaloosa  Eagle.  The  Waco 
Argus  says 

BETTY.  Oh,  mother,  Mr.  Rosenbaum  doesn't  want  to  hear 
my  press  notices. 

[She  rises,  embarrassed,  and  moves  away. 

MRS.  DEAN.  I'm  only  trying  to  prove  to  Mr.  Rosenbaum 
that  you  can  act  circles  around  any  of  these  Broadway 
favourites. 

ROSENBAUM.  Broadway  doesn't  want  acting. 


ACT  i]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  107 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Beaming.]  Mr.  Rosenbaum,  it's  a  pleasure 
to  meet  a  manager  who  knows  the  New  York  public. 

[She  rises  and  sits  across  the  desk  from  ROSENBAUM. 
ROSENBAUM.  [Whispering.]  Mrs.  Dean,  has  she  any  per 
sonality? 

MRS.  DEAN.  That,  perhaps,  is  Betty's  greatest  charm. 
ROSENBAUM.  Has  she  any  mannerisms?    They  like  them, 
too. 

MRS.  DEAN.  She's  full  of  mannerisms. 
ROSENBAUM.  [Shaking  hands  across  the  desk.]  You're  a 
woman  after  my  own  heart.    What's  her  salary? 

MRS.  DEAN.  Two  hundred  dollars  a  week  and  her  clothes. 
[ROSENBAUM  draws  his  hand  away  quickly  as  if  stung. 
BETTY,  who  has  wandered  to  the  other  side  of  the 
room,  turning  quickly  in  surprise,  meets  the  warning 
look  of  MRS.  DEAN. 
ROSENBAUM.  For  an  unknown  actress? 
MRS.  DEAN.  Unknown!    I've  never  noticed  your  portrait 
in  any  Hall  of  Fame. 

ROSENBAUM.  I'll  give  you  one  hundred  dollars. 
MRS.  DEAN.  [Rising.]  Betty,  wasn't  that  appointment 
with  Mr.  Belasco  for  today? 

ROSENBAUM.  [Laughing.]  Belasco!    Now  we've  both  had 
our  little  joke.    Let's  talk  business;  one  hundred  dollars. 
MRS.  DEAN.  Quite  a  comedian,  aren't  you? 
ROSENBAUM.  I'm  sorry.    Maybe  we  can  do  business  some 
other  time.     [BETTY  comes  toward  MRS.  DEAN.     ROSEN 
BAUM  "sizes"  her  up.]    Well,  what  do  you  say  to  one  hun 
dred  and  twenty-five?     It's  a  great  part. 

[MRS.  DEAN'S  back  is  toward  ROSIE.  She  smiles  tri 
umphantly  at  BETTY,  then  turns  to  ROSENBAUM  with 
gracious  dignity. 

MRS.  DEAN.  I  hope  you  get  someone  to  play  it.    Come, 
Betty. 

[They  start  to  go. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Following  them.]  One  hundred  and  fifty, 
[MRS.  DEAN  turns]  but  you  buy  the  clothes. 


108  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  i 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Suspiciously.]  Will  we  come  into  New 
York? 

ROSENBAUM.  Worse  plays  have. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [All  smiling  graciousness.]  Betty,  dear,  how 
would  you  like  to  work  for  Mr.  Rosenbaum? 

BETTY.   [Indifferently.]  I'd  just  as  soon. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Well,  as  Betty  feels  so  strongly  about  it,  I'll 
take  it. 

ROSENBAUM.  Before  I  engage  her,  I'd  like  to  have  her 
read  a  speech  or  two. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Certainly. 

BETTY.  Oh,  I  couldn't. 

ROSENBAUM.  I've  got  to  get  some  idea  of  what  you  can 
do  before  I  sign  you  up. 

MRS.  DEAN.  It's  the  nervousness  of  the  artist.  She  in 
herits  it.  I  felt  exactly  the  same  way  when  I  had  to  read 
the  Portia  speech  for  dear  Mr.  Booth.  [With  a  gesture, 
reciting.]  'The  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained." 

ROSENBAUM.  [Stopping  her.]  It's  your  daughter  I'm  en 
gaging. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Roguishly.]  Ah,  yes,  of  course.  [She 
giggles.]  If  you  give  Betty  a  moment  to  look  it  over. 

ROSENBAUM.  Sure.    Take  this  speech. 

[He  hands  MRS.  DEAN  a  part  and  goes  into  the  wait 
ing-room.  MRS.  DEAN  turns  joyously  to  BETTY. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Oh,  Betty,  my  darling,  you're  going  to  get 
your  chance;  you're  going  to  be  on  Broadway. 

BETTY.  Maybe  I  can't  play  the  part. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Matilda  Kent's  daughter  can  play  anything! 

BETTY.  But  for  $150  he'll  expect  so  much  of  me. 

MRS.  DEAN.  My  dear,  the  more  a  manager  pays  you  the 
better  he  thinks  you  are.  [She  looks  over  the  part.]  This 
speech  isn't  bad,  but  I'll  see  that  it's  rewritten  to  give  you 
something  to  get  your  teeth  in. 

[She  hands  the  part  to  BETTY,  then,  crossing  to  the 
desk,  picks  up  first  act  of  the  manuscript  of  the  play. 
BETTY  sits  wearily  at  the  left  of  the  room. 


ACT  i]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  109 

BETTY.  What's  it  about? 

MRS.  DEAN.  Never  mind  what  it's  about.  When  you 
read  it,  just  fix  your  thoughts  on  something  sad. 

BETTY.  I'll  think  of  poor,  dear  Jerry. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Drily.']  Yes.  Now,  about  the  clothes. 
[She  looks  at  the  first  page  of  the  manuscript.'}  Four  actsl 
That  means  four  dresses. 

BETTY.  How  will  we  get  them? 

MRS.  DEAN.  We've  got  to  get  them.    I'll  make  them. 

BETTY.  [Rising,  goes  to  her.]  Oh,  Mother,  I'm  so  tired 
of  seeing  you  work  yourself  to  death  for  me.  I'm  ashamed 
of  going  around  dressed  like  this  and  you  so  dingy. 

[She  puts  her  head  on  her  mother's  shoulder. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Embracing  her.]  You  just  wait,  my  dear, 
until  you  make  your  big  success!  Then  watch  mother 
flounder  around  in  the  lap  of  luxury. 

BETTY.  [Drawing  away.]  But  we  needn't  wait.  I  could 
give  you  everything  you  wanted,  if  you'd  let  me  marry 
Jerry. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Now,  Betty,  you've  known  Jerry  only  two 
months.  We  won't  discuss  that  infatuation  again. 

BETTY.  It's  not  infatuation.  It's  love.  And  he  says  I'm 
"the  love  of  his  life." 

MRS.  DEAN.  That's  a  mossy  old  line. 

BETTY.  It  sounds  convincing  the  way  he  says  it. 

[She  moves  away. 

MRS.  DEAN.  It  sounded  convincing  when  your  father  said 
it.  [She  goes  to  BETTY.]  Oh,  Betty,  I've  nothing  against 
Jerry,  but  when  I  was  your  age  I  was  swept  off  my  feet  just 
like  this.  I  don't  want  you  to  make  my  mistake.  All  I  ask 
of  you  is  to  wait  until  you've  had  a  taste  of  success;  then, 
if  you  want  to  give  it  up,  that  will  be  a  horse  of  another 
colour.  Now,  where's  that  speech?  [She  takes  the  part.] 
See,  Betty,  tears  in  your  voice  there,  look  wistfully  here, 
make  your  lips  quiver.  Trick  it. 


110  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  i 

BETTY.  Oh,  I'm  sick  of  the  tricks  of  the  trade.  I  don't 
want  to  act. 

[She  throws  the  part  on  the  table. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Reproachfully.]  If  you  felt  all  this  about 
the  stage,  why  didn't  you  tell  me?  You  knew  I  was  only 
living  for  the  day  to  see  you  take  a  curtain  call  on  Broad 
way,  living  only  for  that  one  thrill  of  mother's  pride.  I've 
never  forced  you  to  do  anything  you  didn't  want  to  do,  and 
I  won't  now.  You're  free  to  make  your  choice. 

BETTY.  [Turning  to  her.]  I'm  not  free  to  make  my 
choice.  [She  throws  her  arms  around  her  mother.]  I  love 
you.  You  know  I  do.  No  girl  ever  had  a  better  mother. 
Do  you  think  I  want  to  disappoint  you?  But  I  love  Jerry, 
too.  Oh,  what  can  I  do? 

[She  is  at  the  point  of  tears,  MRS.  DEAN  at  her  wits' 
end,  when  they  are  interrupted  by  the  return  of 
ROSENBAUM  with  the  contracts. 
ROSENBAUM.  Well,  are  you  ready?    Are  you  set? 
MRS.    DEAN.  [Bewildered.]  Why  —  Mr.    Rosenbaum — 

I 

[BETTY  turns,  sees  the  disappointment  in  her  mother's 
eyes,  then,  sighing,  picks  up  the  part,  takes  a  few 
steps  toward  ROSENBAUM,  who  is  seated  at  the  desk, 
and  begins  to  read,  her  mother  watching  anxiously 
the  effect  on  him. 

BETTY.  [Reading.]  "I've  been  lonely,  too,  Mr.  Craig — 
lonelier  than  you,  for  you've  had  your  son,  and  for  years 
I've  had  no  one  who  really  belonged  to  me.  I've  tried  to 
forget  that  loneliness  with  the  thought  that  some  day  this 
wandering  would  be  over,  that  some  day  I'd  have  a  home, 
a  husband,  and  now  you  want  to  take  the  man  I  love  away 
from  me." 

[The  concluding  lines  are  so  applicable  to  her  own 
situation  that  she  is  overcome  and,  throwing  herself 
into  the  chair,  buries  her  head  in  her  arms  and  breaks 
into  wild  sobs.  MRS.  DEAN,  understanding,  goes  to 
her  quickly,  but  ROSENBAUM,  thinking  it  a  bit  of 


ACT  i]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  111 

acting,  jumps  to  his  feet  excitedly  and  claps  his 
hands  in  applause. 

ROSENBAUM.  Great!  Great!  You've  got  the  sob  stuff 
all  right.  Here's  your  contract;  one  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars. 

[He  holds  out  the  pen  to  BETTY,  who  continues  to  cry. 
MRS.  DEAN  is  torn  between  her  joy  at  the  offer  and 
her  fear  that  BETTY  will  refuse  it.    There  is  a  pause. 
ROSENBAUM  looks  at  them  bewildered. 
Aren't  you  going  to  sign  it? 
MRS.  DEAN.  Why,  I  don't  know. 
ROSENBAUM.  Here  you  are,  Miss  Dean. 

[BETTY  looks  at  her  mother,  who  is  watching  her  with 
tears  in  her  eyes.  BETTY  braces  up,  walks  across  to 
the  chair,  sits  at  the  desk  and  takes  a  pen.  MRS. 
DEAN  gives  a  sigh  of  relief,  goes  to  the  table  and 
gets  the  part. 

ROSENBAUM.  Hadn't  you  better  read  the  contracts? 
BETTY.  [Signing  them.]  They're  all  alike.     If  you  want 
me  you'll  keep  me. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Yes.  It  was  a  wise  man  who  said  that  a 
theatrical  contract  was  an  evidence  of  mutual  distrust. 

[BETTY  gives  one  contract  to  her  mother,  who  looks  it 
over,  verifies  it,  then  folds  it  and  puts  it  in  her  bag. 
BETTY.  Where  is  the  rehearsal? 
ROSENBAUM.  Downstairs — this  way. 

[He  opens  the  door  that  leads  to  the  stage.     BETTY 

starts  to  go,  but  MRS.  DEAN,  victorious,  resumes  her 

aggressive  mood.    TOMPKINS  comes  in,  unobserved. 

MRS.  DEAN.  I  suppose  your  stage  manager  is  the  ususal 

fiend  in  human  form. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Turning,  sees  TOMPKINS.]  Here  he  is. 
Mrs.  Dean,  Miss  Dean,  Mr.  Tompkins.  I  think  you'll  find 
him  amiable, 

MRS.  DEAN.  We  shall  see. 

[She  looks  at  TOMPKINS  coldly,  then  strides  haughtily 


112  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  i 

to  the  door.     BETTY  smiles  shyly  at  them  as  she 
follows  her  mother  out  of  the  room. 
ROSENBAUM.  [Excitedly.]  Well,  what  do  you  think  about 
the  little  lady? 

TOMPKINS.  I'm  not  worrying  about  the  little  lady;  it's 
the  old  lady  who's  got  me  winging. 

[SADIE  enters,  wearing  a  large  bunch  of  violets. 
SADIE.  Here  are  the  Brinkley  contracts. 
TOMPKINS.  Rosie,  come  out  and  take  a  flash  at  these 
scene  models. 

ROSENBAUM.  What's  wrong? 
TOMPKINS.  Everything! 

[He  slams  into  his  office. 

ROSENBAUM.  Sadie,  I'd  rather  have  a  thousand  dollars 
than  that  man's  disposition. 

[He  wearily  follows  TOMPKINS.  SADIE  places  the 
BRINKLEY  contracts  on  the  desk  and  is  about  to 
return  to  the  outer  office  when  JEROME  BELDEN 
rushes  in. 

JERRY.  I  missed  her !    Has  she  been  here? 
SADIE.  Yes. 

JERRY.  Has  Mr.  Rosenbaum  seen  her? 
SADIE.  Yes. 
JERRY.  Where  is  she? 

SADIE.  I  think  she's  downstairs,  rehearsing. 
JERRY.  He's  engaged  her? 
SADIE.  I'm  afraid  so. 

JERRY.  Then  I've  got  to  see  Mr.  Rosenbaum.  Where  is 
he? 

SADIE.  He's  busy. 

JERRY.  Very  well.    I'll  wait. 

[SADIE  goes.  JERRY  is  sitting  at  the  desk  when  TOMP 
KINS,  coming  in,  sees  him,  stops  and  clutches  ROSEN 
BAUM,  who  is  following  him. 

TOMPKINS.  [In  a  hoarse  whisper. ,]  Look!  For  the  man 
about  town.  Pay  him  anything.  He's  it.  Heaven  has 
heard  my  prayer. 


ACT  i]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  113 

ROSENBAUM.  God's  good  to  His  chosen. 

[He  runs  over  past  JERRY  to  his  chair  at  the  desk. 
TOMPKINS  brings  a  chair  and  places  it  so  as  to  block 
the  way  should  JERRY  try  to  leave.  JERRY,  seeing 
them,  rises. 

JERRY.  Mr.  Rosenbaum? 

ROSENBAUM.  Yes,  yes.  [JERRY  offers  his  card.  ROSEN 
BAUM  takes  it.]  Well,  young  man,  do  you  sing? 

JERRY.  [Bewildered.]  A  little.    Why? 

ROSENBAUM.  What's  your  voice? 

JERRY.   [More  bewildered.]  Why — 1  don't  know. 

TOMPKINS.  That's  all  right.    He  can  talk  the  song. 

ROSENBAUM.  Do  you  tango? 

JERRY.  A  little,  but  isn't  it 

TOMPKINS.  That's  all  right;  he  can  fake  it.  How  about 
the  uniform? 

ROSENBAUM.  Stand  up,  please. 

JERRY.  [Rising.]  Really — 

ROSENBAUM.  He  can  let  down  the  pants.  Can  you  act 
at  all? 

JERRY.  No. 

TOMPKINS.  I'm  glad  you  realise  it. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Pushes  buzzer.]  All  right,  Mr.  Belden. 
I'll  give  you  seventy-five  dollars  a  week.  [SADIE  enters. 
ROSENBAUM  gives  her  JERRY'S  card.]  Here,  Sadie,  make 
out  a  contract  for  seventy-five  dollars.  Come  back  this 
afternoon.  Take  him,  Tompkins. 

[He  rises.  TOMPKINS  advances,  seizes  JERRY  by  the 
arm,  and  is  starting  to  drag  him  toward  the  door  to 
the  stage  when  JERRY  throws  him  off. 

JERRY.  Wait  a  minute.  Damn  it,  I  tell  you  I'm  not  an 
actor. 

TOMPKINS.  Didn't  you  come  here  about  a  part? 

JERRY.  No.    I  came  here  to  see  him  on  business. 

ROSENBAUM.  Well,  why  didn't  you  say  so? 

JERRY.  I  didn't  get  a  chance. 

TOMPKINS.  [Bitterly.]   Everybody's  hand's  against  me.. 


114  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  I 

[To  ROSIE.]  Send  up  to  the  Winter  Garden  and  get  me  one 
of  those  men  about  town. 

[He  goes  into  his  office.     SADIE  bursts  into  laughter, 
which  ROSENBAUM  resents. 

ROSENBAUM.  Sadie,  no  laughing  in  business  hours.  [SADIE 
goes.]  What  do  you  want  to  see  me  about? 

JERRY.  A  matter  of  business. 

ROSENBAUM.  Are  you  an  architect? 

JERRY.  No. 

ROSENBAUM.  Someone's  always  trying  to  wish  a  New 
York  theatre  on  me.  What  is  it? 

JERRY.  [Threateningly.]  You're  coming  between  me  and 
the  woman  I  love. 

ROSENBAUM.  What?    Who  is  she? 

JERRY.  Bettina  Dean. 

ROSENEAUM.  [Frightened.]  I've  only  seen  the  woman 
twice. 

JERRY.  That  was  enough. 

ROSENBAUM.  I  didn't  say  half  a  dozen  words  to  her. 
[JERRY  comes  toward  the  desk.    A  chair  is  in  his  way; 
he  throws  it  aside  violently  and  leans  over  the  desk, 
his  doubled  fist  within  an  inch  of  ROSENBAUM'S  nose. 
ROSENBAUM  is  terrified. 

JERRY.  You're  deliberately  ruining  her  life's  happiness. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Rising  indignantly .]  It  isn't  so.  Her 
mother  was  in  this  office  all  the  time. 

JERRY.  Oh,  I  don't  mean  that. 

[He  turns  away. 

ROSENBAUM.  Well,  what  in  blazes  do  you  mean?  Talk 
ing  of  life's  happiness  and  women  you  love  like  a — like  a 
problem  play. 

JERRY.  You  thought  I  meant  that  she  was  in  love  with 
you?  [He  laughs.]  With  you?  [He  laughs.]  That's 
funny.  She  wouldn't  look  at  you. 

ROSENBAUM.  Is  that  so!  See  these  grey  hairs?  That's 
what  I  get  for  being  fascinating  to  women. 


ACT  i]  THE  SHOW  SHOP 

[ROSENBAUM  sits  at  the  right  of  the  desk.     JERRY 

brings  a  chair  and  sits  across  from  him. 
JERRY.  Betty  'phoned  me  this  morning.    Said  you'd  sent 
for  her.     Now  what  do  you  want  to  butt  in  like  a  fat 
head 

ROSENBAUM.  One  of  us  is  nutty! 
JERRY.  Betty  says  this  means  good-bye. 
ROSENBAUM.  [Rising.]     Come  on;  let's  you  and  me  go 
up  to  Matteawan. 

JERRY.  [Rising.]  No,  sit  down. 

[He  tries  to  push  ROSENBAUM  into  the  chair. 
ROSENBAUM.  [Placing   both   hands   on  JERRY'S    arms.] 
Just  a  minute.    Give  me  a  chance  to  duck  when  you  throw  it. 
JERRY.  Throw  what? 
ROSENBAUM.  The  bomb. 

JERRY.  Sit   down.     I   haven't   any   bomb.     Let's   talk 
money. 

[He  sits. 

ROSENBAUM.   Money?    He's  got  a  lucid  interval.    Have 
you  got  money? 
JERRY.  Lots  of  it. 

ROSENBAUM.  Excuse  me  a  minute.     [He  rushes  up  to 
the  door,  opens  it  and  calls.]     Sadie  1 
SADIE.  [Outside.]  What? 
ROSENBAUM.  Go  to  lunch. 
SADIE.  [Outside.]  All  right! 

[ROSENBAUM  stands  for  an  instant,  looking  at  JERRY 
speculatively,  then,  smiling,  brings  a  chair  and  places 
it  beside  him. 

JERRY.  Now,  I  don't  know  anything  about  this  theatrical 
business. 

ROSENBAUM.  Don't  let  that  stop  you  from  going  into  it. 
There's  a  mint  in  it  for  the  right  fellow. 
JERRY,  I  don't  want  to  go  into  it. 
ROSENBAUM.  [Disappointed.]  Oh! 

[He  sits. 


116  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  i 

JERRY.  Now  I  want  to  fix  up  a  deal  with  you.  How 
much  do  you  want?  Write  your  own  ticket. 

ROSENBAUM.  Come  on;  we'll  begin  all  over  again.  [They 
rise.  ROSENBAUM  takes  JERRY'S  hand,  shakes  it  effusively.] 
How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Belden? 

JERRY.  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Rosenbaum?    Oh,  sit  down! 

[They  sit. 

ROSENBAUM.  Now,  there's  you  and  Miss  Dean  and  me 
and  a  deal  and  some  money  you  want  to  force  on  me. 

JERRY.  I  want  to  marry  Bettina  Dean. 

ROSENBAUM.  If  you  want  to  commit  suicide,  I'm  not 
stopping  you. 

JERRY.  Why?     Haven't  you  engaged  her? 

ROSENBAUM.  Sure!     She's  signed  the  contract. 

JERRY.  [Dejectedly.]  That  settles  it. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Surprised.]  How? 

JERRY.  We  could  have  been  married  if  you  hadn't  given 
her  this  engagement.  I  wanted  her  to  give  up  the  stage. 
Betty  is  willing,  but  Mrs.  Dean  won't  hear  of  it  until  Betty's 
had  her  chance  in  New  York.  We've  promised  to  wait. 
Now,  what'll  you  take  to  fire  her? 

ROSENBAUM.  What  good  will  that  do? 

JERRY.  We  can  get  married.  Don't  you  see,  no  other 
New  York  manager  wants  her. 

ROSENBAUM.  My  God,  have  I  got  a  lemon  and  a  lion 
tamer? 

[He  rises. 

JERRY.  [Following  him.]  Oh,  Betty  can  act,  all  right. 

ROSENBAUM.  Oh,  can  she?  Well,  you  can  get  a  wife 
anywhere,  but  where'll  I  get  a  leading  woman? 

JERRY.  You've  never  been  crazy  about  a  girl. 

ROSENBAUM.  Worse  than  that!  I've  married  'em — three 
of  'em.  One  was  a  leading  woman,  one  was  a  heavy  woman, 
and  one  was  an  ongenoo.  She  was  the  business  woman. 
She  gets  alimony. 

JERRY.  No  use  appealing  to  you  for  sympathy.  You're 
soured  on  married  life. 


ACT  i]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  117 

ROSENBAUM.  Not  at  all.  You've  got  my  sympathy.  I 
know  what  it  is.  These  ongenoos  do  get  you. 

JERRY.  This  one  has  got  me,  you  bet. 

[  ROSENBAUM  and  JERRY  are  standing  side  by  side,  lost 
in  thought.  ROSENBAUM  looks  at  him  sympatheti 
cally. 

ROSENBAUM.  Honest,  if  I'd  known,  I'd  have  been  tempted 
to  help  you.  [He  pauses  as  if  struck  with  an  idea.]  Look 
here,  have  you  ever  acted? 

JERRY.  I've  fluffed  around  in  college  plays. 

ROSENBAUM.  Why  don't  you  take  this  part  of  the  man 
about  town.  I'll  give  you  thirty  dollars  a  week. 

JERRY.  That  won't  be  necessary. 

ROSENBAUM.  Well,  come  on  and  take  it. 

JERRY.  I  couldn't  act. 

ROSENBAUM.  Anybody  can  act.  You'd  be  in  the  company 
with  Miss  Dean,  see  her  every  day,  dance  a  tango  with  her 
every  night. 

JERRY.  I  couldn't  go  on  the  stage.  My  friends  would  josh 
the  life  out  of  me. 

[Their  argument  is  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of 
MRS.  DEAN,  followed  by  BETTY. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Mr.   Rosenbaum,   that  man  Tompkins   is 

simply  impossible.    He [She  sees  JERRY.]     What  are 

you  doing  here? 

JERRY.  I  came  to  buy  Betty's  contract. 

MRS.  DEAN.  What? 

JERRY.  I  don't  want  her  to  go  on  the  road.  I  hate  travel 
ling. 

MRS.  DEAN.  It's  too  bad  about  you.  It  isn't  necessary 
for  you  to  travel. 

JERRY.  Oh,  yes,  it  is!    I've  got  to  see  Betty. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Do  you  think  I'd  allow  you  to  trapse  around 
the  country  after  my  daughter?  Travel  on  the  same  train, 
stop  at  the  same  hotel?  Do  you  think  I'm  going  to  have 
Betty  compromised  by  the  attentions  of  an  idle  rich  young 
man? 


118  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  i 

JERRY.  Compromised?     That's  so.      [To  ROSENBAUM.] 
Say,  what  do  you  do  to  go  on  the  stage? 
ROSENBAUM.  Just  go. 
JERRY.  I'll  take  that  part. 
ROSENBAUM.  [Quickly.]  Twenty  a  week? 

[JERRY  and  ROSENBAUM  shake  hands  on  the  bargain, 
to  the  astonishment  of  MRS.  DEAN  and  to  the  joy 
of  BETTY,  who  runs  across  to  JERRY'S  outstretched 
arms. 

CURTAIN 


THE  SECOND  ACT 

The  parlour  of  the  Palace  Hotel,  Punxatawney — a  large  room 
with  the  dingy  aspect  and  notable  lack  of  comfort  so 
characteristic  of  the  (< one-night  stand"  hotels  in  Amer 
ica.  At  the  right  of  the  room  is  a  large  window  with 
"stringy"  lace  curtains  over  which  are  jaded  green  rep 
hangings,  at  the  left  a  fireplace  and,  towering  above  it, 
a  black  walnut  mantel  cluttered  with  garishly  coloured 
bric-a-brac,  and  at  the  back  and  to  the  left  a  large 
opening,  showing  a  hall  and  a  flight  of  stairs.  A  round 
table  with  a  spotted  chenille  cover  stands  in  the  centre 
of  the  room  with  chairs  at  the  right,  at  the  left  and  at 
the  back  of  it,  all  of  them  of  different  periods,  alike  in 
that  they  are  equally  uncomfortable.  A  rocking-chair 
at  the  fireplace,  a  horsehair  sofa  at  the  right  of  the 
room,  and,  near  the  window,  a  table  on  which,  in  a 
glass  case,  is  a  moth-eaten  stuffed  bird,  complete  the 
furnishings  of  the  room.  The  wall-paper  in  an  intricate 
design  of  green  and  purple  "cabbages,"  and  fly-specked 
engravings  of  historical  incidents,  preferably  those  de 
picting  death,  enhance  the  general  gloom  which  is  in 
tensified  rather  than  mitigated  by  the  light  of  a  pon 
derous  chandelier.  It  is  half-past  eleven  of  an  evening 
in  October,  six  weeks  having  elapsed  since  the  events 
of  the  preceding  act. 

ROSENBAUM,  his  hat  pushed  down  over  his  forehead,  a 
partially  smoked  cigar  hanging  from  the  corner  of  his 
mouth,  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  slouches  in  the  chair 
at  the  right  of  the  table,  a  picture  of  utter  and  aban 
doned  despondency.  The  NIGHT  CLERK,  a  tall,  raw- 
boned  Yankee  with  hair  plastered  in  deep  curves  on 
119 


120  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  11 

his  brow,  a  heavy,  drooping  moustache,  and  dressed  in 
the  height  of  small-town  fashion,  "featuring"  a  plaid 
waistcoat  and  a  made-up  jour-in-hand  tie  in  which  is 
a  cluster  scarf-pin  of  imitation  emeralds  and  diamonds, 
enters  and  approaches  ROSENBAUM,  who  turns  and 
regards  him  gloomily. 

ROSENBAUM.  Well,  Mr.  Night  Clerk? 

NIGHT  CLERK.  Can't  find  a  room.  House  is  chock-a- 
block.  Got  two  drummers  sleepin'  on  the  billiard-table  and 
four  old  ladies  in  the  bridal  soot. 

ROSENBAUM.  Glad  somebody's  selling  out.  What's  the 
attraction? 

NIGHT  CLERK.  This  is  Old  Home  Week  in  Punxatawney. 

ROSENBAUM.  Any  other  hotels? 

NIGHT  CLERK.  Everything  full  but  the  jail.  Guess  from 
the  carryin's  on  tonight,  it'll  be  full  tomorrow. 

ROSENBAUM.  What  about  that  drummer  who  is  going  out? 

NIGHT  CLERK.  He  ain't  fit  to  go  on  the  midnight.  He 
took  in  a  couple  of  acts  of  that  show,  "The  Wallop,"  at  the 
Opera  House,  and  ever  since  he's  been  drinkin'  somethin' 
terrible. 

ROSENBAUM.  Where  is  he?  I'll  join  him.  [He  rises. 
TOMPKINS  enters.}  Hello,  Tompkins. 

NIGHT  CLERK.  Will  I  fix  a  cot  in  here? 

TOMPKINS.  [To  ROSENBAUM.]   Can't  you  get  a  room? 

ROSENBAUM.  No,  the  hotel  has  a  hit. 

TOMPKINS.  Go  over  and  take  mine. 

ROSENBAUM.  I'll  take  a  chance  on  the  cot. 

[He  sits. 

TOMPKINS.  You'll  never  sleep. 

[He  sits  on  the  other  side  of  the  table. 

ROSENBAUM.  Yes,  I  will.    I've  got  some  plays  to  read. 

NIGHT  CLERK.  Want  any  thin'  else? 

ROSENBAUM.  Yes,  a  lot  of  poison. 

NIGHT  CLERK.  [Smiling.']  Rye  or  Scotch? 


ACT  n]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  121 

ROSENBAUM.  Bring  us  a  couple  of  slugs  out  of  that  drum 
mer's  bottle. 

[The  NIGHT  CLERK  goes. 

TOMPKINS.  I  didn't  know  you  were  in  front  tonight. 
When  did  you  get  here? 

ROSENBAUM.  7:30.    I  went  straight  to  the  theatre. 

TOMPKINS.  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  the  show? 

ROSENBAUM.  I  hate  to  tell  you. 

TOMPKINS.  As  bad  as  that? 

ROSENBAUM.  Worse. 

TOMPKINS.  Is  it  the  performance? 

ROSENBAUM.  No.  As  the  saying  goes,  "You  put  it  over, 
but  it  lay  there  and  it  died." 

TOMPKINS.  You  saw  it  with  a  cold  house. 

ROSENBAUM.  We've  had  three  weeks  of  cold  houses. 

TOMPKINS.  You  got  my  letter  about  young  Belden? 
You've  got  to  let  him  go  if  you're  going  to  take  this  show 
into  New  York. 

ROSENBAUM.  I'm  taking  it  into  New  York — to  Cain's 
storehouse. 

TOMPKINS.  Then  we  blow  up? 

ROSENBAUM.  Tomorrow  night. 

TOMPKINS.  [Laughing  bitterly.]  I  picked  it  for  a  flivver. 

ROSENBAUM.  You  were  a  good  picker. 

TOMPKINS.  Well,  why  did  you  produce  it? 

ROSENBAUM.  I  wanted  to  do  something  for  art. 

TOMPKINS.  Seems  to  me  the  minute  you  managers  collect 
a  little  loose  change  providing  entertainment  for  the  tired 
business  man,  you  go  bugged  producing  something  for  the 
highbrows. 

ROSENBAUM.  I'm  cured.  A  small  cast  and  one  set  of 
scenery:  that's  going  to  be  my  idea  of  art. 

TOMPKINS.  [Picking  up  the  manuscript.]  Is  this  it? 
[Reading  the  title.]  "A  Drop  of  Poison!" 

ROSENBAUM.  No,  that's  worse  than  "The  Wallop."  Give 
it  to  me.  I'll  bury  it. 

[He  rises,  takes  the  manuscript  and  puts  in  his  travel- 


122  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  11 

ling  bag  which  is  on  the  sofa.    The  NIGHT  CLERK 
returns  with  a  tray  containing  the  drinks. 

NIGHT  CLERK.  Here  you  are,  gentlemen.  [ROSENBAUM 
pays  for  the  drinks.]  Thank  you,  Mr.  Tompkins,  for  them 
passes.  "The  Wallop"  is  some  showl 

ROSENBAUM.  Did  you  like  it? 

[He  sits  again. 

NIGHT  CLERK.  Immense. 

ROSENBAUM.  Tompkins,  give  it  to  him. 

TOMPKINS.  No;  he  may  have  a  wife  and  family. 

NIGHT  CLERK.  Of  course,  I  don't  set  up  to  know  much 
about  shows.  But  you  take  it  from  me 

ROSENBAUM.  He  wants  to  give  it  back  to  us. 

[TOMPKINS  and  ROSIE  drink. 

NIGHT  CLERK.  Maybe  you  don't  want  me  to  say  what 
I  think? 

TOMPKINS.  What  you  think  is  going  to  make  a  whole 
lot  of  difference  to  us. 

NIGHT  CLERK.  Your  first  act's  punk. 

ROSENBAUM.  Tompkins,  make  a  note  of  that. 

NIGHT  CLERK.  And  I  don't  like  your  leadin'  man. 

TOMPKINS.  Shake,  brother,  shake! 

[He  rises,  grabs  the  NIGHT  CLERK'S  hand  and  shakes 
it,  then  sits  again. 

NIGHT  CLERK.  The  audience  would  a  liked  it  better  if 
there  was  more  to  laugh  at. 

ROSENBAUM.  Bring  'em  around  and  let  'em  look  at  me. 

NIGHT  CLERK.  There's  a  lot  of  other  things  I  can't  think 
of  just  this  minute. 

TOMPKINS.  [Imploringly.]  Try!     Won't  you? 

ROSENBAUM.  But  don't  give  yourself  a  headache. 

NIGHT  CLERK.  Oh,  pshaw,  thinkin'  don't  bother  me.  I'm 
used  to  it.  Always  help  all  the  managers  fix  up  their  shows. 

ROSENBAUM.  Tompkins,  he's  a  lovely  fellow.  If  it 
won't  interrupt  you,  bring  up  some  sandwiches  and  some 
beer. 

NIGHT  CLERK.  How  many  of  you's  going  to  celebrate? 


ACT  n]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  123 

ROSENBAUM.  There'll  be  six  pallbearers. 
NIGHT  CLERK.  Ain't  you  show  folks  the  kidders? 

[Chuckling,  he  goes. 

TOMPKINS.  Going  to  break  the  sad  blow  to  the  bunch 
tonight? 

ROSENBAUM.  Yes.  I  left  word  for  Effie  and  Johnnie, 
the  Deans  and  young  Belden  to  see  me  here.  I  didn't  want 
to  break  it  to  Mrs.  Dean  alone. 

TOMPKINS.  Well,  Mathilda's  going  to  emit  a  yell  that 
would  make  the  roar  of  a  Bengal  tiger  sound  like  the  voice 
of  a  cooing  dove. 

ROSENBAUM.  If  she  assaults  me  I  have  witnesses. 
You'll  join  us? 

TOMPKINS.  [Rising.]  I've  got  to  go  back  to  the  show 
shop.  See  that  the  scenery  gets  out.  Want  me  to  tell  the 
working  staff? 

ROSENBAUM.  Yes.  I'll  tell  the  rest  of  the  company. 
Where'll  I  find  them? 

[He  rises. 
TOMPKINS.  Across  the  street  at  the  cheap  hotel. 

[He  goes.  ROSENBAUM  is  following  him  dejectedly 
when  BETTY  appears  in  street  attire.  She  shakes 
hands  with  ROSENBAUM. 

BETTY.  Oh,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Rosenbaum.  Do  you 
want  to  see  me? 

ROSENBAUM.  Yes.     Where  is  your  mother? 
BETTY.  She  stopped  at  the  telegraph  office. 
ROSENBAUM.  Will  you  wait  here?     I'll  be  right  back. 
BETTY.  Certainly. 

[As  she  moves  towards  the  fireplace,  JERRY   enters 

breezily. 

JERRY.  Well,  Rosie,  how  do  you  feel? 
ROSENBAUM.  Like  someone  pushed  me  off  the   Singer 
Building. 

[He  goes.  JERRY,  laughing,  follows  him  to  the  door, 
looks  out  to  see  that  no  one  is  coming,  then  rushes  to 
BETTY,  grabs  her  and  kisses  her. 


124  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  n 

BETTY.  Jerry! 

JERRY.  It's  the  first  chance  I've  had  in  six  weeks,  and  I 
may  not  get  another,  so  I'll  take  a  few  more  now  before 
mother  gets  on  the  job  again. 

[He  kisses  her  again. 

BETTY.  Poor  old  Jerry!  To  be  near  his  Betty  did  he 
have  to  be  an  actor? 

JERRY.  This  consoles  me. 

[He  fries  to  kiss  her  again.     BETTY  evades  him  and 
moves  away. 

BETTY.  You  won't  have  to  be  one  much  longer 

JERRY.   [Following  her.}  What  do  you  mean? 

BETTY.  We're  going  to  close. 

JERRY.  Close  what? 

BETTY.  The  play's  a  failure. 

JERRY.  Who  told  you? 

BETTY.  No  one.  I  know  the  symptoms.  Mother  will 
be  furious. 

JERRY.  Going  back  to  New  York!  Great!  Come  on 
now,  hip-hip 

BETTY.  I  haven't  a  "hip-hip"  in  me.  Oh,  I  wish  this 
beastly  play  had  gone  to  New  York  and  failed,  satisfied 
mother  and  set  me  free. 

JERRY.  Free!     Won't  you  marry  me  now? 

BETTY.  No,  I  can't  go  back  on  my  promise  to  mother. 
I  said  I'd  wait  until  I  had  my  chance  on  Broadway.  It 
will  be  a  case  of  look  for  another  engagement. 

[She  sinks  wearily  onto  the  sofa. 

JERRY.  What!     Me  have  to  act  again? 

[He  falls  into  a  chair. 

BETTY.  I'm  afraid  you  wouldn't  get  the  chance,  dear. 
Not  if  they  saw  you. 

JERRY.  Have  I  made  this  tour  of  darkest  America,  en 
dured  all  the  horrors  of  those  one-night-stands,  no  decent 
beds,  food  that's  a  crime,  all  that  for  nothing? 

BETTY.  I  didn't  ask  you  to  do  it. 

JERRY.  You  might  have  told  me  I  wasn't  going  to  have 


ACT  n]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  125 

a  minute  alone  with  you.  Can't  sit  in  the  same  seat  with 
you  on  the  train,  can't  go  for  a  walk,  can't  sit  at  the  same 
table,  can't  even  carry  your  grip  for  fear  of  compromis 
ing  you. 

BETTY.  I'm  not  responsible  for  the  etiquette  of  this  pro 
fession. 

JERRY.  Can't  even  see  you  at  the  theatre.  The  only 
minute  I  get  with  you  is  dancing  that  darn  tango,  and  they 
won't  let  us  take  an  encore  on  that. 

BETTY.  I'm  not  running  the  performance. 

JERRY.  Have  to  stand  around  and  see  that  goggle-eyed 
leading  man  mauling  you  all  over  the  stage.  [He  rises  and 
goes  to  her.]  One  thing  I'll  do  before  we  close.  I'll  take 
a  punch  at  him. 

BETTY.  And  how  do  you  think  I  like  it? 

JERRY.  Well,  you  act  as  though  you  enjoyed  it. 

[He  walks  away,  sulkily. 

BETTY.  [Rising.]  Enjoy  itl  I've  had  a  lovely  time  on 
this  trip.  It's  so  comfortable  to  play  a  love  scene  with 
you  in  one  entrance  glaring  at  me  if  I  play  it  well  and 
mother  in  another  entrance  glaring  at  me  if  I  don't. 

JERRY.  I  suppose  I  am  a  little  jealous. 

BETTY.  A  little?     You're  full  of  it. 

JERRY.  [Going  to  her.]  Don't  you  understand?  Betty, 
don't  you  love  me? 

BETTY.  I  don't  love  anybody,  I  just  want  to  get  mar 
ried. 

[She  titrns  to  JERRY,  and  puts  her  head  on  his  shoulder. 

JERRY.  [Putting  his  arms  around  her.]  Come  on,  let's 
find  a  minister. 

BETTY.  I've  just  told  you  I've  got  to  wait  till  mother 
gets  me  on  Broadway.  [Disgustedly.]  Broadway!  When 
all  I  want  is  a  farm  and  chickens  and  a  little  calf. 

JERRY.  I've  only  twenty  thousand  dollars  a  year,  Betty, 
but  I  guess  we  could  run  a  little  farm  on  that.  If  you 
ever  do  give  up  the  stage,  you  won't  want  to  act  again. 

BETTY.  Every  wife  has  to  act  a  little. 


126  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  11 

[She  kisses  him.  The  NIGHT  CLERK  enters  with  a 
tray  on  which  are  bter  and  sandwiches.  They  jump 
apart. 

JERRY.  [Embarrassed.']  We — we  were  rehearsing. 
NIGHT  CLERK.  Oh,  don't  mind  me.     I  ain't  no  scandal 
monger. 

[He  puts  the  tray  on  the  table. 
[Enter  EFFIE  and  JOHNNY  in  rather  dingy  attire. 
EFFIE.  Hello  children.     Where's  Mr.  Rosenbaum? 
NIGHT   CLERK.  He  said  not  to  wait.    You  can  wade 
right  in. 

[He  goes. 
JERRY.  Shall  I  open  these  now? 

[He  indicates  the  bottles. 
JOHNNY.  I'll  never  have  a  worse  thirst. 

[JERRY  sits  at  the  right  of  the  table  opening  a  bottle 
of  beer;  BETTY  takes  a  sandwich  and  sits  on  the 
couch.  EFFIE  sits  at  the  left  of  the  table  and  begins 
to  munch  sandwiches.  JOHNNY  goes  over  to  the  fire 
place. 

EFFIE.  Why  the  feast? 

JOHNNY.  I  hate  to  be  the  one  to  spread  the  pall  over 
this  merry  gathering,  but  it  looks  to  me  like  a  two  weeks' 
notice  in  disguise. 
BETTY.  Me  too! 

JERRY.  What  makes  you  think  we  close? 
JOHNNY.  My  boy,  a  bad  play  playing  to  worse  busi 
ness,  and  a  sudden  visit  from  the  manager — well,  when 
you've  been  in  the  business  as  long  as  I  have,  you'll  be  able 
to  put  that  two  and  two  together  without  straining  your 
psychic  powers. 

EFFIE.  I've  been  expecting  it.     We  opened  on  Friday 
the  i 3th. 

JOHNNY.  There  was  a  peacock  on  that  garden  drop. 
BETTY.  I  always  hated  that  business  of  my  opening  an 
umbrella. 
JERRY.  I  didn't  know  that  actors  were  superstitious. 


ACT  n]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  127 

BETTY.  We're  not. 

JOHNNY.  Somebody's  been  stringing  you. 

JERRY.  Well,  thank  the  Lord,  no  more  dressing  in  the 
flies  for  me. 

JOHNNY.  It's  so  long  since  I  dressed  anywhere  else. 
That's  one  of  the  beauties  of  this  profession,  the  older  you 
grow  the  more  stairs  you  climb. 

JERRY.  Cheer  up,  Johnny,  we  only  live  once. 

JOHNNY.  And  if  you're  an  actor  you  only  live  half  the 
time. 

EFFIE.  [Tearfully.]  Oh,  what  will  we  do? 

JOHNNY.  Oh,  why  worry,  when  you  can  be  buried  for 
twenty-five  dollars? 

EFFIE.  Oh,  Johnny,  don't. 

[She  begins  to  cry.    JOHNNY  goes  to  her  quickly  and 
puts  his  arms  about  her. 

JOHNNY.  Oh,  Effie,  old  girl 

EFFIE.  What  would  happen  to  me,  if  anything  happened 
to  you?  Life's  hard  enough  together.  Oh,  curse  this 
business ! 

JERRY.  It's  a  dog's  life. 

BETTY.  [Rising  and  going  to  JERRY.]  Oh,  no,  all  a  dog 
has  to  do  is  lie  around  and  get  fat.  We  don't  dare  do 
that. 

JOHNNY.  Got  to  begin  all  over  again.  The  heart-break 
ing  hunt  for  a  job!  If  you  get  it,  rehearse  for  weeks  with 
nothing  coming  in,  and  your  last  bit  of  savings  going  out 
for  wardrobe.  Then  the  suspense!  Will  it  go?  Will  it 
fail?  It's  tough  enough  when  you're  young,  but  it's  a  hell 
of  a  trade  when  you're  old. 

BETTY.  [Tenderly. .]  Not  when  you  grow  old  together, 
Johnny.  That's  all  we  ask,  isn't  it,  Jerry? 

[She  puts  her  hand  on  JERRY'S  shoulder;  JERRY  pats 
it  and  kisses  it. 

JOHNNY.  Jerry's  different.  I  had  no  right  to  marry 
Effie  when  I  couldn't  support  her. 


128  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  11 

EFFIE.  A  lot  you  had  to  say  about  it.  I  saw  that  you 
were  my  happiness  and  I  grabbed  you. 

JOHNNY.  [Very  tenderly.]  You've  never  regretted  it, 
have  you? 

EFFIE.  Sometimes  when  you  row  about  the  breakfast 
coffee. 

JOHNNY.  Stung! 

[He  sits  at  the  back  of  the  table. 

JERRY.  Have  some  beer,  Mrs.  Brinkley? 

EFFIE.  What  do  you  think,  Johnny?  You  know  how  I 
take  on  weight. 

JOHNNY.  [Handing  her  a  glass  of  beer.]  Aw,  go  on! 
The  more  there  is  of  you,  the  more  I  love  you. 

EFFIE.  Johnny,  I  think  you're  the  nicest  husband  in  the 
world. 

JOHNNY.  Effie,  if  I  told  you  what  I  think  about  you  it 
would  sound  like  Romeo  at  his  frothiest. 

EFFIE.  [Giggling.]  Aren't  we  a  couple  of  old  sillies? 

BETTY.  We  think  you're  a  couple  of  old  dears,  don't  we, 
Jerry? 

JERRY.  Are  you  going  to  stick  to  me  like  that? 

BETTY.  If  you're  as  nice  as  Johnny. 

EFFIE.  Hush,  Betty,  he'll  get  so  puffed  up,  there'll  be 
no  living  with  him. 

[BETTY  laughs  and  moves  to  the  couch.  JERRY  fol 
lows  her.  ROSENBAUM  appears.  JOHNNY,  EFFIE 
and  BETTY  knowing  what  is  coming,  settle  them 
selves  for  the  blow  which  ROSENBAUM  hates  to  de 
liver.  He  hesitates,  coughs  and  then  begins. 

ROSENBAUM.  Well,  children,  in  this  business,  we've  got 

to  be  good  gamblers.     This  is   a   very  painful   moment. 
j 

JERRY.  Oh,  they  all  know  you're  going  to  close. 

BETTY.  Oh,  Jerry,  let  him  read  his  speech. 

ROSENBAUM.  What's  the  use?  He  stole  my  climax. 
I'm  sorry,  people.  You've  all  worked  hard  to  help  me  put 
"The  Wallop"  over.  If  the  show  had  a  ghost  of  a  chance, 


ACT  n]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  129 

I'd  stick.  But  you've  seen  the  business.  After  I  give  you 
two  weeks'  salary  and  get  you  home,  I  won't  be  able  to 
pay  the  first  installment  on  a  two  cent  stamp. 

BETTY.  Oh,  Mr.  Rosenbaum,  I'm  so  sorry. 

[She  goes  to  him  and  gives  him  her  hand. 

JERRY.  Me  too.     If  I  can  help  you  out,  old  man. 

EFFIE.  Oh,  Rosie,  are  you  broke? 

ROSENBAUM.  Oh,  that's  all  right.  I  didn't  have  money 
long  enough  to  get  intimate  with  it. 

[He  sits  at  the  right  of  the  table.     BETTY  returns  to 
the  couch  beside  JERRY. 

JERRY.  It  always  struck  me  that  the  only  wallop  in  the 
show  was  in  the  title. 

EFFIE.  Of  course,  if  there  had  been  more  of  Johnny  and 
me  in  the  piece.  But  our  scene  in  the  last  act  came  too 
late  to  save  it. 

JOHNNY.  Yes,  and  when  I  showed  the  author  where  he 
could  slide  us  in  here  and  there,  he  handed  me  a  lot  of 
junk  about  "construction."  The  poor  nut! 

EFFIE.  [Indignantly.']  Yes,  and  instead  of  thanking  you, 
you'd  have  thought  Johnny  was  trying  to  tamper  with  his 
deathless  English  prose. 

ROSENBAUM.  He  doesn't  know  that  plays  may  be  writ 
ten  but  that  successes  are  rewritten. 

JOHNNY.  Yes,  by  actors. 

[  ROSIE  turns  and  looks  at  JOHNNY.    EFFIE  nods  an 
assent  to  the  statement. 

BETTY.  He  was  awfully  nice  to  me. 

JERRY.  Why  not?     You  were  the  best  thing  in  his  play. 

EFFIE.  Rosie,  what'll  you  do? 

ROSENBAUM.  I  guess  I'll  tackle  the  ten  cent  movies.  If 
I  can't  be  the  Erlanger  of  the  drama,  I'll  be  the  Wool- 
worth. 

JOHNNY.  We  might  try  the  movies,  Effie. 

EFFIE.  Why,  Johnny,  I  can't  fall  off  the  Brooklyn 
Bridge  at  my  time  of  life,  at  least,  not  gracefully. 


139  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  n 

[MRS.  DEAN  appears,  unobserved,  in  the  door  dressed 

as  in  the  previous  act. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Good  evening,  everybody.  There  you  are, 
Betty.  It's  bedtime  for  my  little  girl. 

[JERRY,  at  the  sound  of  her  voice,  jumps  quickly  from 
the  sofa  where  he  has  been  seated,  his  arm  around 
BETTY,  who  rises  in  confusion  and  goes  to  MRS. 
DEAN.  The  others  are  surprised  at  MRS.  DEAN'S 
cheerful  mood. 

EFFIE.  [Whispering  across  the  table  to  ROSENBAUM.] 
Have  you  broken  the  news  to  Mathilda? 

[  ROSENBAUM  shakes  his  head. 
JOHNNY.  [Whispering.]  Go  on.     Get  it  over. 

[ROSENBAUM  rises,  fearing  the  task  ahead  of  him,  and 
walks  slowly  towards  the  fireplace.    JOHNNY  and 
EFFIE  wait  for  the  explosion  from  MRS.  DEAN. 
ROSENBAUM.  Oh,  Mrs.  Dean. 
MRS.  DEAN.  [Joining  him.']  Yes,  Mr.  Rosenbaum. 
ROSENBAUM.  [Beginning  his  set  speech.]  In  this  busi 
ness  we've  got  to  be  good  gamblers.    This  is  a  very  pain 
ful  moment.     I — 
MRS.  DEAN.  Yes,  we  close. 
ROSENBAUM.  [Greatly  surprised.}  You  knew? 
MRS.    DEAN.  [Very    pleasantly.]  Yes.      It's    too    bad. 
We've  been  such  a  happy  family. 
JOHNNY.  Yes,  just  like  a  Zoo. 

[MRS.   DEAN  glares  over  her  shoulder  at  JOHNNY. 

EFFIE  reproves  JOHNNY  with  a  glance. 
ROSENBAUM.  I've  fallen  down  on  my  promise  to  take 
your  daughter  into  New  York. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Oh,  I  understand  perfectly,  Mr.  Rosenbaum. 
It's  hard  enough  to  get  New  Yorkers  in  to  see  a  good  play. 
You  can't  drive  them  in  to  a  bad  one,  unless  you  send  a 
taxicab  with  every  pass. 

[ROSENBAUM,  bewildered,  looks  at  JOHNNY  and  EFFIE 
who  are  equally  taken  aback,  then  sits  again  at  the 
right  of  the  table. 


ACT  n]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  131 

BETTY.  [Going  to  her  mother.]  Oh,  mother,  I  thought 
you'd  be  annoyed. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Oh,  my  dear,  to  have  been  associated  with 
a  failure  on  Broadway,  would  have  been  death  to  your 
career. 

JERRY.  What  do  you  mean? 

MRS.  DEAN.  You'll  all  be  so  glad  to  know  that  Betty's 
future  is  assured. 

JERRY.  Do  you  mean ? 

BETTY.  Oh,  mother,  am  I  going  to  be  married? 
MRS.  DEAN.  [Firmly.]  No.     [Beamingly.]     You're  go 
ing  with  Belasco. 
JERRY.  Belasco! 
BETTY.  What! 

MRS.  DEAN.  Yes,  I  just  sent  a  wire  accepting  a  part  in 
a  new  production.  To  be  sure  it's  only  a  bit,  but  better 
a  bit  on  Broadway  than  a  great  part  in  Punxatawney. 
Good  night  everybody.  Come,  Betty. 

[She  and  BETTY  start  to  go.    JERRY  follows  them  to 

the  door. 
JERRY.  Betty! 

[MRS.  DEAN  glares  at  JERRY  and  leads  BETTY  away. 
JERRY  moves  slowly  down  to  the  fireplace  where  he 
stands  the  picture  of  dejection.  The  others  look  at 
him  in  sympathy. 

JOHNNY.  Isn't  she  the  fox?  She  felt  this  coming  and 
laid  her  pipes. 

EFFIE.  [Rising.]  She's  right  to  think  of  her  girl.  I  wish 
she  would  think  a  little  more  of  you,  boy.  [She  goes  to 
JERRY  and  puts  her  hand  in  his.]  Good  night.  Don't 
worry.  God  bless  you.  I've  handed  that  line  across  so 
often,  but  this  time  no  stage  manager  could  say  I  didn't 
have  real  feeling  back  of  it. 

JERRY.  And  it  never  landed  harder. 

[Moved,  he  puts  his  arm  around  EFFIE,  who  is 
crying,  and  takes  her  to  the  door.  JOHNNY  joins 


132  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  H 

them  and  puts  his  arm  about  JERRY'S  shoulder  in  a 
sympathetic  hug. 

JOHNNY.  Good  night,  son.  Take  my  advice,  go  out  and 
put  some  vine  leaves  in  your  hair. 

[They  go,  leaving  JERRY  standing  at  the  door  lost  in 
thought.  He  is  seized  suddenly  by  an  idea  and  runs 
quickly  to  ROSENBAUM  who  is  seated,  a  prey  to 
despondency. 

JERRY.  Rosie,  do  you  want  to  make  some  easy  money? 

ROSENBAUM.  [Startled.]  Where  is  it?     Who's  got  it? 

JERRY.  I  have.     I  want  you  to  put  on  a  play  for  me. 

ROSENBAUM.  Oh,  no,  Jerry.    I'm  too  fond  of  you. 

JERRY.  Then  you'll  do  this  for  me.  I'll  guarantee  all 
expenses. 

ROSENBAUM.  Pinch  me!     Pinch  me! 

JERRY.  You  get  the  play  and  star  Betty  on  Broadway. 
Are  you  on? 

ROSENBAUM.  [Turning  to  JERRY.]  Wait  a  minute.  Isn't 
there  a  kick  in  this? 

JERRY.  No,  and  what's  more,  I'll  give  you  $5,000  cash 
for  yourself  if 

ROSENBAUM.  [Disgustedly.']  If!  Always  there's  an 
"if."  Sometimes  I  think  it's  my  middle  name. 

JERRY.  Five  thousand  dollars,  Rosie,  if  you'll  guarantee 
me  a — sure  fire  failure! 

ROSENBAUM.  He's  got  his  brain  turned. 

JERRY.  Never  saner  in  my  life.  Didn't  you  hear  Betty's 
mother  say  a  moment  ago  that  to  be  associated  with  a  fail 
ure  would  be  death  to  Betty's  career?  Well,  all  I  want  to 
do  is  to  cover  up  that  career  with  a  couple  of  "Rests  in 
Peace"  and  a  nice  big  "Gates  Ajar." 

ROSENBAUM.  I  don't  get  you. 

[He  rises,  dazed,  and  goes  to  JERRY. 

JERRY.  Betty's  promised  her  mother  that  she  won't  marry 
me  until  she's  had  a  chance  on  Broadway.  We  furnish 
the  chance.  A  failure  for  mother  would  mean  wedding 
bells  for  Betty  and  me.  Now  do  you  get  me? 


ACT  n]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  133 

ROSENBAUM.  [Eagerly.]  If  you  want  a  failure,  why  not 
buy  "The  Wallop"? 

JERRY.  Oh,  no,  mother's  on  to  that,  and  Betty's  part's 
not  big  enough.     Come  on,  we've  got  to  cinch  this  thing 
tonight.     I  want  quick  action. 
ROSENBAUM.  You  got  the  play? 

JERRY.  No.  You've  got  to  get  it.  You've  got  to  work 
for  that  money. 

ROSENBAUM.  I  don't  believe  I'd  know  how  to  pick  a  fail- 
ure. 

JERRY.  [Laughing.]  Kind  regards  to  "The  Wallop." 
ROSENBAUM.  Suppose  Mrs.  Dean  won't  fall  for  it? 
JERRY.  All  you  got  to  do  with  Mrs.  Dean  is  to  murmur 
the  word  "Star."     I'll  send  for  her. 

[He  presses  the  push  button. 
ROSENBAUM.  But  we  haven't  a  play. 
JERRY.  None  kicking  around  any  place? 
ROSENBAUM.  [Recollecting.]  Sure,  I  got  a  grip  full  of 
'em. 

[He  gets  his  travelling  bag,  places  it  on  a  chair  beside 
the  table,  opens  it  and  begins  to  lay  the  manuscripts 
on  the  table.     The  NIGHT  CLERK  enters. 
JERRY.  Will  you  go  up  to  Mrs.  Dean's  room  and  tell  her 
Mr.  Rosenbaum  would  like  to  see  her  here  immediately? 
NIGHT  CLERK.  [Demurring.]  It's  pretty  late. 
JERRY.  That  won't  make  any  difference. 

[He  gives  him  a  liberal  tip. 

NIGHT  CLERK.  Well,  if  you  insist.  I  hope  being  actresses 
they  won't  get  the  idea  that  I'm  tryin'  to  make  improper 
advances. 

JERRY.  Oh,    you    get   out!      [He   goes.]     Here,    Rosie, 
spread  'em  out.     Now  pick  one! 
ROSENBAUM.  What? 
JERRY.  Here,  I'll  show  you.     Go  it  blind. 

[He  stands  at  the  back  of  the  table  on  which  the  manu 
scripts  are  now  spread  out.  He  puts  his  hand  over 
his  eyes.  ROSENBAUM  looks  at  him  and  chuckles. 


134  v    \        THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  n 

ROSENBAUM.  By  Jiminy,  it's  as  good  a  way  to  pick  'em 
as  any. 

JERRY.  Eeny,  meeny,  miney,  mo.     [On  "mo"  he  grabs 
a  manuscript.']     There  you  are.     [He  picks  it  up  and  reads 
the  title  "A  Drop  of  Poison."     ROSIE  roars  with  laughter. 
JERRY  is  bewildered.]     What  is  it?     Is  it  a  comedy? 
ROSENBAUM  It's  a  freak. 
JERRY.  Have  you  read  it? 

ROSENBAUM.  [Taking  it.]  Some  of  it.  Listen  to  the 
note  in  red  ink.  [Reads.]  "NOTE:  The  last  act—  [he 
roars]  the  last  act  takes  place — [he  roars  again]  the  last 
act  takes  place  eight  years  before  the  opening  of  the 
FIRST." 
JERRY.  It  listens  like  a  sure  fire  flivver. 

[JERRY  and  ROSENBAUM  are  hanging  on  to  each  other 
weak  from  laughter  when  the  NIGHT  CLERK  returns. 
NIGHT  CLERK.  Mrs.  Dean  will  be  right  down. 
JERRY.  [To  ROSIE.]  "A  Drop  of  Poison." 

[They  both  laugh. 

NIGHT  CLERK.   She  asks  you  to  excuse  her  kimony. 
JERRY.  Kimony! 

[They  howl  with  laughter  again,  to  the  intense  an 
noyance  of  the  NIGHT  CLERK,  who  goes. 
JERRY.  I'll  get  out  and  let  you  handle  it. 
ROSENBAUM.  All  right.    When  I  ring  you'll  know  it's 
settled.     I'll  set  the  stage. 

JERRY.  And  say,  I'm  not  in  on  this. 
ROSENBAUM.  Don't  you  want  to  be  in  the  company? 
JERRY.  I  should  say  not.    I'm  fed  up  on  this  acting 
game.    "A  Drop  of  Poison." 

[He  laughs  and  disappears. 

[ROSENBAUM  has  hastily  put  the  other  manuscripts  in 
the  bag  which  he  conceals  underneath  the  table. 
Then  sitting,  he  takes  out  his  pocket  handkerchief 
and  opening  the  script  of  "A  Drop  of  Poison"  at  ran 
dom,  waits  for  the  arrival  of  MRS.  DEAN.  Pres 
ently  there  is  a  knock.  ROSENBAUM  is  convulsed 


ACT  n]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  135 

with  silent  laughter,  as  he  pretends  to  be  engrossed 
in  the  play.  MRS.  DEAN  knocks  again.  Then  she 
enters,  attired  in  a  jaded  pink  kimono,  ROSENBAUM 
watching  her  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Sobbing.]  Oh,  what  a  great  play!  My, 
what  a  pathetic  climax! 

[He  sobs  again,  covers  his  eyes  with  his  handkerchief. 
MRS.  DEAN  coughs.  ROSENBAUM  wipes  his  eyes,  crosses 
to  MRS.  DEAN,  takes  her  by  the  arm,  leads  her  to  a  chair, 
then  stands  beside  her.  MRS.  DEAN  is  surprised  by  his 
actions.  ROSENBAUM  smiles  at  her  ingratiatingly.']  My 
dear  Mrs.  Dean,  I  have  a  proposition  to  make  you. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Bounding  out  of  her  chair. ,]  Sir! 

ROSENBAUM.  Oh,  this  is  strictly  business. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Then,  come  to  the  point.  I  don't  care  to 
have  any  prying  eyes  see  me  in  a  man's  room  at  the  dead 
of  night  in  my  dishabilly. 

ROSENBAUM.  I  have  to  see  you.  I  just  found  the  most 
marvellous  play  for  your  daughter,  the  most  wonderful 
part. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Sneeringly  J]  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Rosenbaum, 
but  you  wouldn't  recognise  a  wonderful  part  if  it  came  up 
and  kissed  you. 

ROSENBAUM.  I'll  give  Betty  anything  she  wants.  I'll 
take  her  to  New  York.  I've  got  the  backing. 

MRS.  DEAN.  I  listened  to  your  siren  song  once,  and  it 
landed  me  in  Punxatawney.  Good  evening. 

[She  starts  to  go. 

ROSENBAUM.  Too  bad.    I  was  going  to  star  Bettina. 

[He  sits  in  the  rocking  chair. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Stopping.]  What  did  you  say,  Mr.  Rosen 
baum?  [ROSENBAUM  laughs  quietly.  MRS.  DEAN  comes 
to  him.']  What  did  you  say,  Mr.  Rosenbaum? 

ROSENBAUM.  Oh,  excuse  me.  I  was  just  thinking  how 
Bettina  Dean  in  red  and  yellow  electric  lights  would  look. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Wistfully.]  In  one  row  across  the  front 
of  a  Broadway  theatre. 


136  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  n 

ROSENBAUM.  Two  rows  would  be  more  imposing. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Perhaps  it  would.  [She  sits  at  the  left  of 
the  table.]  I  thought  you  were  broke? 

ROSENBAUM.  [Rising.']  I  can  always  get  backing  for  a 
good  play.  I'll  give  you  a  guarantee.  I'm  only  producing 
this  to  take  Betty  into  New  York. 

MRS.  DEAN.  What  is  the  play?  Of  course,  there's  no  use 
my  considering  it  unless  Betty  has  all  the  situations  and  all 
the  climaxes.  If  anybody  else  in  the  play  has  anything  to 
do,  why  be  a  star? 

ROSENBAUM.  We'll  make  it  a  monologue. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Picking  up  the  manuscript  from  the  table.] 
Is  this  it? 

ROSENBAUM.  Hadn't  you  better  wait  until  I  have  it  re 
vised  according  to  your  ideas? 

[He  tries  to  take  the  manuscript. 

MRS.  DEAN.  I'll  attend  to  that.    Is  the  author  amenable? 

ROSENBAUM.  I  think  he's  an  American. 

MRS.  DEAN.  What  is  the  part? 

ROSENBAUM.  [Puzzled,  then  taking  a  chance.]  An  un 
happy  wife. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Haven't  they  been  done? 

ROSENBAUM.  I  never  heard  of  one  being  done. 

[MRS.  DEAN  laughs,  but  her  laugh  dies  as  she  sees  the 
title. 

MRS.  DEAN.  "A  Drop  of  Poison!" 

ROSENBAUM.  Don't  you  like  it? 

MRS.  DEAN.  Impossible! 

ROSENBAUM.  Change  it.    Change  it. 

[He  sits  at  the  right  of  the  table. 

MRS.  DEAN.  The  title  should  include  the  name  of  the  star 
part.  [She  looks  at  the  manuscript.]  Dora  Chapman.  Let 
me  see.  Of  course,  being  the  heroine,  she's  in  trouble. 
I've  got  it.  "Dora's  Dilemma." 

ROSENBAUM.  What's  a  Dilemma? 

MRS.  DEAN.  Another  name  for  trouble. 

ROSENBAUM.  That's  a  great  title  for  any  play. 


ACT  n]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  137 

MRS.  DEAN.  Is  Mr.  Tompkins  going  to  stage  this  piece? 

ROSENBAUM.  Under  your  direction.  You  might  as  well 
do  it  first  as  last. 

MRS.  DEAN.  We'll  do  it  together. 

ROSENBAUM.  Then  the  deal's  on? 

[He  rises,  reaches  his  hand  to  her  across  the  table. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Wait  a  minute.  [RosiE  sits  again.']  Of 
course,  Betty  will  have  the  usual  privilege  of  a  woman  star, 
no  actress  younger  than  herself  in  the  company? 

ROSENBAUM.  Certainly. 

MRS.  DEAN.  No  member  of  the  supporting  cast  to  be 
mentioned  in  the  newspapers.  Of  course,  if  one  of  them 
should  die,  we  couldn't  prevent  a  slight  obituary. 

ROSENBAUM.  Anything  else? 

MRS.  DEAN.  Yes,  the  salary. 

ROSENBAUM.  I'm  listening. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Two  hundred  dollars  a  week,  all  dresses 
and  51%  of  the  profits,  the  real  profits.  I'll  look  over  the 
accounts  myself,  and  remember,  Mr.  Rosenbaum,  I  won  a 
prize  at  school  for  arithmetic. 

ROSENBAUM.  My,  what  a  head  for  a  Christian! 

[MRS  DEAN  rises,  smiling  effusively,  and  shakes  hands 
with  ROSENBAUM,  who  rises. 

MRS.  DEAN.  How  fortunate  for  you  that  we've  met — 
we'll  make  a  lot  of  money  for  you. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Sapiently.]  You're  going  to  make  $5,000 
for  me,  anyway. 
[BETTY  enters. 

BETTY.  Mother,  what  are  you  doing?  Aren't  you  ever 
coming  to  bed? 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Rushing  to  her.]  Oh,  Betty  dear,  the  most 
wonderful  news!  You're  going  to  be  a  star! 

BETTY.  [Indifferently.]  Am  I? 

MRS.  DEAN.  But,  darling,  aren't  you  excited? 

BETTY.  No,  I'm  sleepy.    Who's  going  to  star  me? 

[She  sits  in  the  rocking-chair. 

ROSENBAUM.  Me. 


138  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  11 

BETTY.  [Rocking.]  I  thought  we  were  going  with  Be- 
lasco? 

MRS.  DEAN.  When  you  can  go  with  Mr.  Rosenbaum? 
The  idea! 

[  ROSENBAUM  smiles  conceitedly. 

BETTY.  [Yawning  as  she  rocks.]  It's  all  the  same  to  me. 
MRS.  DEAN.  You're  going  to  have  everything  you  want. 
BETTY.  [Hiding  a  smile.]  Oh,  I  am?     Will  I  have  my 
say-so  about  who's  in  the  company? 
ROSENBAUM.  Certainly.    Certainly. 
BETTY.  Then  I  want  Effie  and  Johnnie. 

[She  rocks.    MRS.  DEAN  looks  at  ROSIE,  who  nods 

assent. 

MRS.  DEAN.  If  there's  a  place  for  them. 
BETTY.  [Firmly.]  I'll  make  one.     And  I  want  Jerry. 
[MRS.  DEAN,  dismayed,  turns  to  ROSIE,  who  signifies 

consent. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Of  course,  if  there's  a  very  small  bit. 
BETTY.  No  bits.    He's  going  to  play  the  lead. 

[MRS.  DEAN  and  ROSIE  are  paralysed. 
MRS.  DEAN.  [Recovering.]  Do  you  want  to  handicap 
your  career? 

BETTY.  If  any  other  man  makes  love  to  me  on  the  stage 
it  handicaps  me  in  real  life  with  Jerry. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Betty,  listen  to  reason.  [To  ROSENBAUM.] 
This  isn't  like  my  little  girl. 

BETTY.  Your  little  girl's  enough  like  you  to  put  her  foot 
down  and  put  it  down  hard.  You  want  me  to  star  and  I 
want  to  marry  Jerry.  He  is  either  going  to  be  my  leading 
man  or  my  husband.  You  can  take  your  choice. 

[She  rocks. 
ROSENBAUM.  Mrs.  Dean,  come  here  a  moment. 

[MRS.  DEAN  goes  to  him.    He  takes  her  aside. 
BETTY.  You  two  needn't  try  to  put  up  any  schemes. 
ROSENBAUM.  [Whispering.]  Why  not  let  him  play  it? 
MRS.  DEAN.  [Whispering.]  Have  you  gone  crazy,  too? 
ROSENBAUM.  Don't  you  see,  if  she  has  a  good  leading 


ACT  n]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  139 

man,  it  won't  be  such  a  walk-over  for  her.    The  worse  he 
is,  the  more  she'll  shine. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Smiling.]  You're  a  very  bright  man,  Mr. 
Rosenbaum. 

ROSENBAUM.  Yes,  I  think  so,  but  maybe  I'm  partial. 
MRS.  DEAN.  [Going  to  BETTY.]  It's  all  right,  Betty; 
you  shall  have  your  wish,  but  it's  a  frightful  risk. 
BETTY.  [Rocking.]  I'll  teach  him  to  play  it. 
MRS.  DEAN.  [Vindictively.]  And  I'll  rehearse  him  in  it 
until  he  drops. 

[JERRY,  entering,  stops  at  the  sight  of  them.  ROSIE 
and  JERRY  exchange  glances.  BETTY  rises  and  runs 
to  JERRY. 

BETTY.  Oh,  Jerry,  we're  not  going  to  be  separated!     I'm 
going  to  star  [JERRY  smiles]  and  you're  going  to  be  my 
leading  man. 
JERRY.  What! 

[Amazed,  he  looks  at  ROSIE,  who  moves  away. 
BETTY.  My  leading  man! 
JERRY.  [Furiously.]  Me?    I  am  not! 

[He  turns  away. 
BETTY.  Why,  Jerry! 
JERRY.  Not  by  a  darn  sight. 

[He  starts  angrily  for  ROSENBAUM,   BETTY  towards 
the  door,  followed  by  MRS.  DEAN  and  ROSENBAUM. 
ROSENBAUM.  There  goes  my  $5,000.    Wait,  wait! 

[MRS.   DEAN   brings   BETTY   back   and   ROSENBAUM 

returns  to  JERRY. 

BETTY.  I  won't  star  for  anybody,  unless  he  plays  the  lead. 
JERRY.  No,  sir;  not  on  your  life. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Dramatically.]  This  is  the  man  who  pre 
tends  to  love  my  daughter,  and  yet  he  spurns  the  great 
honour  that  is  being  thrust  upon  him. 

JERRY.  I  do  love  your  daughter.  I'm  willing  to  do  any 
thing  in  reason  to  make  any  sacrifice  to  prove  that  love, 
but  act  again!  No!  There  are  limits  even  to  my  en 
durance!, 


140  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  11 

MRS.  DEAN.  You  love  her  and  yet  you  stand  by  and  see 
her  refuse  a  great  opportunity!  The  opportunity  for  which 
I've  spent  years  of  watchful  waiting.  You'll  ruin  a  great 
career,  ruin  all  my  hopes,  my  dreams,  because  of  a  childish 
prejudice  against  the  noble  art  of  acting.  If  you  have  no 
thought  of  her,  have  pity  on  me,  her  mother.  For  God's 
sake,  be  her  leading  man! 

ROSENBAUM.  [Whispering.']  Go  on,  do  it,  and  we'll  have 
a  sure-fire  failure. 

JERRY.  [Grasping  the  idea.]  Mrs,  Dean,  if  I  do  this  for 
you,  if  I  beat  a  lot  of  fool  lines  into  my  brain,  if  I  go  on 
painting  my  face  like  a  chorus  girl,  what  will  you  do  for 
me? 

MRS.  DEAN.  Try  and  make  an  actor  of  you! 

JERRY.  Oh,  my  God! 

[Aghast,  he  jails  back  against  the  table. 

CURTAIN 


THE  THIRD  ACT 

SCENE  ONE:  The  Dress  Rehearsal. 

The  stage  of  a  Broadway  Theatre  at  jour  A.  M.  of  a  Mon 
day  in  October  during  the  dress  rehearsal  of  "DORA'S 
DILEMMA,"  which  began  at  eight  o'clock  of  the  previous 
evening  and  is  still  in  progress.  The  scene  when  com 
pleted  is  to  represent  a  handsomely  decorated  and  fur 
nished  library,  the  walls  panelled  in  wood  to  a  certain 
height,  above  which  is  a  frieze  of  tapestry.  It  is  now 
partially  finished.  At  the  back  is  an  opening  obviously 
designed  to  contain  a  large  window  in  several  sec 
tions  as  one  of  them  with  leaded  glass  panes  is  in  place. 
Through  this  opening  can  be  seen  a  garden  back  drop, 
lowered  only  half  way,  an  electric  light  border,  and 
beyond  and  below  them  the  back  watt  of  the  theatre. 
Against  this  wall  are  stacked  several  pieces  of  scenery, 
the  unpainted  side  turned  towards  the  spectators  and 
stencilled  with  the  words,  "Bettina  Dean  Co."  At  the 
rear  and  at  the  left  of  the  window  is  a  door  leading 
to  a  hall.  The  backing  to  represent  the  hall  is  not 
in  place.  At  the  lower  left  is  a  door,  the  frame  and  the 
door  are  unpainted.  At  the  right  of  the  stage  is  an 
opening  for  a  fireplace  in  which  a  fire  is  lighted,  but 
there  is  no  backing,  andirons  nor  logs,  so  that  the 
"baby"  spot  which  furnishes  the  effect  of  a  fire-glow 
is  plainly  visible.  There  is  a  door  at  the  upper  right 
of  the  room.  The  ceiling  of  the  room  is  not  in  place, 
the  "lines"  holding  it  plainly  visible.  There  is  a  large 
couch  placed  at  right  angles  to  the  fireplace,  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  room  a  table  desk  with  a  desk 
chair,  its  back  to  the  spectators.  Another  chair  is  at 
the  right  of  the  desk.  Below  the  door  at  the  left, 

141 


142  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  m 

against  the  wall,  is  a  high-backed  chair  and  one  similar 
in  style  at  the  right  of  the  room  below  the  fireplace. 
These  chairs  are  in  the  process  of  upholstery,  the  ma 
terial  applied  on  the  arms  and  the  backs,  but  the  seats 
are  still  in  muslin.  An  arm-chair,  covered  in  velvet, 
stands  at  the  right  of  the  window.  There  are  no  dra 
peries  and  the  cushion  of  the  window  seat  has  not  been 
covered. 

Before  the  curtain  is  raised  there  can  be  heard  a  confused 
murmur  of  voices  as  though  an  act  of  a  play  was  in 
progress.  When  it  is  raised  the  room  is  dimly  lighted 
as  though  by  the  effect  of  lamplight  and  firelight.  The 
people  on  the  stage  are  made  up  as  the  characters  they 
represent  in  "DORA'S  DILEMMA":  JOHNNIE  BRINKLEY 
as  CHAPMAN,  wearing  a  moustache,  a  grey  wig  and  a 
morning  coat,  vest  and  striped  trousers;  JERRY  as  DICK 
BENNETT,  in  dinner  clothes  and  cap;  BILLINGS,  a  stocky 
individual  in  a  policeman's  uniform,  and  BETTY  as  DORA 
CHAPMAN,  in  an  evening  gown.  TOMPKINS  as  HEN 
DERSON,  the  butler,  in  livery  but  in  his  shirt-sleeves, 
leans  against  the  door  at  the  back.  He  is  holding  the 
prompt  copy  of  "DORA'S  DILEMMA"  with  which  he  is 
following  the  action  of  the  play.  JOHNNY  is  standing 
in  front  of  the  desk,  BILLINGS  at  the  right  of  it.  JERRY 
in  the  centre  of  the  room,  facing  JOHNNY;  BETTY  be 
hind  the  couch,  on  which  is  JERRY'S  overcoat.  Their 
attitudes  are  tense,  their  speech  excited,  as  they  are 
at  the  climactic  moment  of  the  third  act  of  "DORA'S 
DILEMMA." 

JOHNNY.  [To  HENDERSON.]  "Turn  on  those  lights." 
[To  BILLINGS.]  "Search  him!" 

BILLINGS.  [Advancing  to  JERRY  and  threatening  him 
with  a  pistol.]  "Hold  up  your  hands!  Hold  up  your 
hands!" 

BETTY.  Rushing  down  between   BILLINGS   and  JERRY, 


ACT  m]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  143 

holding  aloft  the  papers. ,]    "Stop!    Here  are  the  bonds.    I 
am  the  thief!" 

[TOMPKINS  gives  the  signal  for  the  curtain.  BETTY, 
BILLINGS  and  JOHNNY  hold  the  picture  which,  to 
their  disgust,  JERRY  breaks  by  pivoting  to  the  front 
and  smiling.  BETTY  hands  the  bonds  to  JOHNNY 
wearily.  He  puts  them  on  the  desk  as  the  curtain 
falls. 

ROSENBAUM.  [At  the  rear  of  the  auditorium.']  Take  your 
curtain  up. 

[There  is  a  pause. 

TOMPKINS.  [Behind  the  entrain,  and  in  a  loud  tone.] 
Say,  you,  come  on  up  with  that  curtain. 

[The  curtain  rises  slowly,  then  MRS.  DEAN  enters  from 
the  door  at  the  left  and,  coming  to  the  footlights, 
shades  her  eyes  from  their  glare  and  peers  out  into 
the  auditorium. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Oh,  Mr.  Rosenbaum! 
ROSENBAUM.  What  is  it? 

MRS.  DEAN.  Take  one  good  look  at  this  scenery  and  then 
come  on  the  stage,  please! 

[JOHNNY  and  BILLINGS  exchange  glances,  then  go. 
TOMPKINS  moves  down  to  the  chair  at  the  right  of 
the  desk,  and  sits,  looking  at  the  manuscript.    BETTY 
is  pinning  up  her  train  with  a  long  safety-pin. 
BETTY.  Mother,  how  was  the  climax  that  time? 
MRS.  DEAN.  Electrical! 

[She  puts  her  arm  around  BETTY'S  shoulder  and  starts 

to  the  couch. 

JERRY.  [To  MRS.  DEAN.]  How  was  I? 
MRS.  DEAN.  You  were  awful! 

[She  crosses  to  the  couch.  BETTY  sits  at  the  left  end 
of  it.  MRS.  DEAN  stands  beside  her.  Enter,  from 
the  door  at  the  left,  GRANBY  SMITH,  the  author,  a 
tall,  harassed-looking  individual  in  a  lounge  suit, 
outing  shirt  and  soft  hat.  He  comes  to  JERRY. 
SMITH.  Mr.  Belden! 


144  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  in 

JERRY.  [Going  to  him.']  Yes,  Mister  Author. 
SMITH.  Are  you  deliberately  trying  to  kill  my  play? 
JERRY.  Am  I  as  bad  as  that? 

SMITH.  Bad!  [He  groans  and,  going  over  to  TOMPKINS, 
jerks  the  manuscript  out  of  his  hand.]  Let  me  look  at 
what's  left  of  my  script. 

[TOMPKINS  looks  at  him  sneeringly.  SMITH  glowers 
at  him  and  sits  on  the  edge  of  the  desk,  poring  over 
his  play.  ROSENBAUM  enters,  passing  SMITH,  who 
glares  at  him,  and  goes  to  JERRY,  who  leads  him  out 
of  the  others'  hearing. 

JERRY.  Oh,  Rosie!     How  is  "Dora's  Dilemma"? 
ROSIE.  It's  a  crime. 

[They  laugh. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Mr.  Rosenbaum,  that  act  ought  to  make 
them  sit  up  and  take  notice. 

ROSIE.  It's  great!  Great!  [Turning  to  SMITH.]  Eh, 
Smith? 

SMITH.  It's  a  great  act,  if  it's  acted! 

[He  throws  the  manuscript  on  the  desk,  takes  a  chair, 
places  it  below  the  tormentor  at  the  left  edge  of 
the  proscenium  arch,  where  he  sits,  his  head  buried 
in  his  hands.  ROSENBAUM  and  JERRY  laugh.  MRS. 
DEAN  starts  to  the  left.  JERRY  turns  and  bumps 
into  her. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Exasperated, ,]  Mr.  Belden,  will  you  sit 
down?  [JERRY  crosses  and  sits  on  the  floor  below  the  tor 
mentor  at  the  right  edge  of  the  proscenium  archJ]  Mr. 
Tompkins,  get  that  scene  painter! 

[TOMPKINS  looks  at  MRS.  DEAN  disgustedly,  then  turns 

in  his  chair  at  the  desk  and  yells. 
TOMPKINS.  Painter!     Painter! 

MRS.  DEAN.  Mr.  Rosenbaum!  This  scenery  is  in  awful 
shape.  We'll  never  be  ready  for  tonight! 

ROSENBAUM.  Well,  you  wanted  a  new  production  for  New 
York  and  you  got  it. 

[He  joins  SMITH. 


ACT  m]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  145 

[Enter  from  the  rear  door  the  SCENE  PAINTER,  an 
emaciated,  dejected-looking  person,  carrying  a  paint 
pail,  a  colour  sheet  and  a  brush. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Yelling]  Oh,  Scene  Painter!  [He  comes 
down  wearily  and  stands  beside  her,  looking  at  her  va 
cantly.]  I  wish  to  remind  you  that  we  open  tonight.  That 
door  isn't  painted.  We  have  no  back  drop.  [Very  sarcas 
tically.]  Mere  details. 

[He  looks  at  her  slowly,  then  yawns  in  her  face.  MRS. 
DEAN,  furious,  is  about  to  address  him  violently,  but 
her  words  are  lost  in  the  noise  of  a  loud  hammering 
begun  at  the  rear  door  by  MAGINNIS,  a  burly  stage 
carpenter,  wearing  overalls  and  a  cap.  MRS.  DEAN 
brushes  the  SCENE  PAINTER  aside  impatiently  and 
begins  yelling  at  MAGINNIS,  who  pays  no  attention 
to  her.  The  SCENE  PAINTER  goes  up  to  the  door  at 
right,  looks  at  it,  then  places  his  pot  of  paint  and  the 
colour  sheet  on  a  chair  by  the  window,  selecting, 
naturally,  the  only  chair  that  has  been  covered  with 
velvet  and  that  might  be  damaged.  Then  he  walks 
out  of  the  door  at  the  right,  wearily.  MRS. 
DEAN  continues  to  try  to  make  herself  heard  above 
the  din  of  the  hammering.  TOMPKINS  finally  comes 
to  her  rescue. 
TOMPKINS.  Maginnis! 
MAGINNIS.  [Truculently]  Well? 

MRS.  DEAN.  If  that  door  squeaks  tonight  in  my  daugh 
ter's  big  scene,  tomorrow  I'll  be  sending  you  a  wreath  of 
Immortels. 

MAGINNIS.  [Getting  paper  of  tobacco  out  of  his  pocket 
and  taking  a  chew]  Don't  worry;  it'll  be  all  right  to 
night. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Bitterly]  Everything'll  be  all  right  to 
night! 

MAGINNIS.  Yes'sum,  I  hope  the  play  will. 

[He  winks  at  TOMPKINS  as  he  goes. 
[MRS.  DEAN  turns  and  sees  JERRY  sitting  beside  BETTY. 


146  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  in 

She  glares  at  him.  He  rises  quickly  and,  going  to 
the  window-seat,  lies  on  it.  MRS.  DEAN  having 
settled  him,  turns  and  sees  IKE  GOLDMAN,  the  Elec 
trician,  entering  at  the  left  door.  He  is  tall  and 
rather  pleasant-looking.  His  shirt-sleeves  are  rolled 
up,  showing  that  his  hands  and  arms  are  stained  yel 
low  and  red  by  the  dyes  in  which  he  has  been  dip 
ping  the  electric  light  bulbs  that  he  is  carrying.  He 
starts  to  talk  to  TOMPKINS  when  MRS.  DEAN  inter 
rupts  him. 

MRS.   DEAN<  [Severely.]  Electrician!      The   stage   was 
much  too  dark  in  this  act.    More  light,  please. 

[She  turns  and  joins  BETTY. 

GOLDMAN.  [To  TOMPKINS.]  I  should  think  she'd  want 
to  hide  this  act. 

TOMPKINS.  Don't  worry;  it'll  be  buried  tonight!     Give 
us  your  foots. 

GOLDMAN.  [Calling  off  left.]  Oh,  Jimmy,  come  on  up 
with  your  foots! 

[He  goes. 

HICKSON,  the  Property  Man,  a  stout  young  man  with 
a  disagreeable  cast  of  countenance  and  an  overbear 
ing  manner,  comes  in  the  door  at  the  right,  followed 
by  his  assistant,  STEVE,  a  small,  slight,  meek  youth. 
They  are  wearing  sack  suits  and  soft  hats.  HICKSON 
goes  quickly  to  the  window-seat  where  JERRY  is  ly 
ing.  HICKSON  unceremoniously  brushes  JERRY  off 
the  seat  and  climbs  on  it.  JERRY  picks  himself  up 
and  bows  elaborately  to  HICKSON,  who  sneers  at  him, 
then  begins  to  take  a  measurement  of  the  window 
with  a  foot-rule  which  his  minion,  STEVE,  has  car 
ried  on.  MRS.  DEAN,  turning,  sees  him. 
MRS.  DEAN.  Oh,  Property-man!  Property-man! 

[ HICKSON  pays  no  attention  to  her. 
TOMPKINS.  Hickson! 

HICKSON.  [Measuring  the  window]  Well? 
MRS.  DEAN.  Where  are  the  pictures  for  this  act? 


ACT  m]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  147 

HICKSON.  [To  STEVE.]  Six  foot,  four  inches.    [To  MRS. 
DEAN.]    What  pictures? 
TOMPKINS.  The  ones  I  ordered. 

[ HICKSON  jumps  off  the  window-seat,  grabs  the  prop 
erty  list  from  STEVE'S  hand  and  gives  him  the  ruler. 
He  comes  down  to  MRS.  DEAN. 

HICKSON.  [Insolently.]  Anyone  show  me  any  pictures  on 
that  list,  I'll  give  'em  a  nice  little  kiss.  What  pictures  do 
you  want? 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Placating  him.']  Can  you  get  me  a  few  fine 
old  masterpieces? 

HICKSON.  Sure!  The  property  room  is  just  full  of  'em. 
Come  on,  Steve. 

[STEVE  goes  out  the  door  at  the  right.    JERRY  is  stand 
ing  there.    HICKSON,  following  STEVE,  throws  JERRY 
out  of  the  way.    JERRY  shakes  his  fist  at  HICKSON, 
follows  him,  but  returns  immediately. 
ROSENBAUM.  Mrs.  Dean,  the  author  has  an  idea. 
MRS.  DEAN.  Let  me  get  it  before  he  loses  it. 

[She  joins  ROSENBAUM  and  SMITH  at  the  proscenium 

arch  at  the  left. 

ROSENBAUM.  Tompkins,  call  the  company. 
TOMPKINS.  Everybody  on  stage,  please. 

[He  rises  wearily. 

BETTY.  [Rising.]  Jerry,  how  do  you  like  my  dress? 
[She  unpins  the  train,  letting  it  jail  on  the  floor,  and 

walks  up  and  down. 
JERRY.  Immense! 
BETTY.  I'm  just  mad  about  the  train. 

[She  moves  to  the  right.    JERRY  follows  her. 
TOMPKINS.     [Yelling.']     Everybody    on    stage,    please! 
[The  members  of  the  company  appear  at  the  various  en 
trances]    Oh>  come  on! 

[He  glowers  at  them,  but  it  has  no  effect.  They  stroll 
on.  Miss  DONAHUE,  a  tall,  beautiful  blonde  in  an 
elaborate  and  extremely  decollete  dress;  Miss  FAR- 
RINGTON,  a  red-headed  divinity,  gorgeously  attired; 


148  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  in 

Miss  TOBY,  a  pretty,  girlish  brunette  in  a  maid's 
costume,  and  EFFIE,  looking  remarkably  well  in  a 
dark  blue  velvet  evening  gown,  advance  to  the  foot 
lights  and,  placing  their  hands  below  their  eyes,  look 
out  over  them  into  the  auditorium.  JERRY  comes 
over  to  them. 

JERRY.  Girls,  you  look  great!     Efne,  if  Ziegfeld  ever  sees 
you,  you're  gone! 

[BILLINGS  comes  hurrying  in  from  the  door  at  the  leftf 
followed  by  JOHNNY.  They  join  the  group.  JERRY 
goes  over  to  BETTY,  whispers  to  her.  She  turns  and 
sees  that  MRS.  DEAN  is  busily  engrossed  with 
ROSENBAUM  and  SMITH,  then,  taking  JERRY'S  arm, 
they  run  out  through  the  door  at  the  right.  EFFIE, 
Miss  DONAHUE,  BILLINGS,  Miss  TOBY,  JOHNNY, 
Miss  FARRINGTON  and  TOMPKINS,  who  is  leaning 
against  the  desk,  are  lined  up  from  right  to  left. 
They  shift  wearily  from  one  foot  to  another,  yawn 
ing. 
EFFIE.  [Yawning.]  What  time  is  it? 

[BILLINGS  shoves  up  the  sleeve  of  his  policeman's 

uniform  and  looks  at  his  wrist  watch. 
BILLINGS.  [In  a  pronounced  English  accent.]  A  bit  after 
four. 

FARRINGTON.  If  I'm  going  to  keep  this  job,  my  dressing- 
room  ought  to  have  a  cot  and  a  kitchenette. 

Miss  DONAHUE.  My  Gawd,  and  there  are  people  who 
want  to  go  on  the  stage! 

TOMPKINS.  [Sarcastically.]  Where  do  you  horn  in? 
Miss  DONAHUE.  Mr.  Rosenbaum  insisted  that  he  needed 
my  personality  to  put  this  piece  over. 

TOMPKINS.  [To  MRS.  DEAN.]  Who  do  you  want  in  this 
act? 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Over  her  shoulder.]  I  have  suggestions  for 
all  of  you. 

[She  turns  again  to  SMITH. 


ACT  in]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  149 

JOHNNY.  She's  the  woman  who  put  the  hearse  in  re 
hearsal  ! 

[He  sits  in  the  chair  at  the  desk. 
ROSENBAUM.  Tompkins,  fetch  the  script. 

[TOMPKINS  takes  the  manuscript  to  ROSENBAUM,  who 
abetted  by  MRS.  DEAN  begins  to  browbeat  the 
author. 

Miss  TOBY.  What  are  they  going  to  do? 
EFFIE.  [Sarcastically.']  I  suppose  they're  going  to  rewrite 
the  piece  again  and  give  Dora  another  dilemma. 

Miss  DONAHUE.  If  it  isn't  right  now,  with  three  weeks' 
rehearsal  and  two  weeks  on  the  road,  I  can  see  where  I 
go  back  to  manicuring. 

[EFFIE  goes  up  to  the  couch  and  puts  on  JERRY'S  over 
coat,  which  is  thrown  across  it. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [To  SMITH.]  Just  let  that  suggestion  pene 
trate,  if  it  can. 

[She  crosses  over  and  stands  in  front  of  the  company. 
In  her  hand  are  slips  of  paper  on  which  she  has  made 
memoranda. 

TOMPKINS.  Now,  children! 

ROSENBAUM.  [Following  MRS.  DEAN.]  Mrs.  Dean  has 
some  valuable  suggestions. 

[The  company  look  at  one  another  disgustedly.  TOMP 
KINS  sits  on  the  left  end  of  the  desk.  SMITH,  in  his 
chair  at  the  proscenium  arch,  groans  loudly.  Every 
one  looks  at  SMITH. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [To  SMITH.]  Mr.  Smith,  are  you  in  pain? 
SMITH.  Would  it  matter  to  anybody  if  I  were? 

[HICKSON  and  STEVE  return  through  the  door  at  the 
right,  carrying  the  "masterpieces."     STEVE   comes 
down  between  EFFIE  and  Miss  DONAHUE.    HICKSON 
comes  down  between  Miss  FARRINGTON  and  Miss 
TOBY.    They  push  the  actresses  aside  rudely. 
ROSENBAUM.  [Going  to  HICKSON.]  What  is  it? 
HICKSON.  Here's  your  masterpieces.    Show  'em,  Steve! 
[STEVE  turns  the  picture  face  out  to  the  audience.    It 


150  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  HI 

is  a  badly  painted  watermelon  with  a  slice  cut  out 
of  it.  HICKSON  turns  the  picture  he  is  carrying. 
It  is  a  plate  of  lemons. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Pointing  to  HICKSON'S  picture.]  Say, 
what  is  that? 

HICKSON.  [To  ROSENBAUM.]  A  plate  of  lemons.  [Look 
ing  at  SMITH.]  I  thought  it  was  appropriate. 

[SMITH  rises  and  rushes  to  the  centre.  ROSENBAUM 
stops  him.  STEVE  and  HICKSON  look  indifferently 
at  SMITH. 

STEVE.  Who's  the  string-bean? 

HICKSON.  [Indicating  SMITH.]  That?  It's  the  author, 
the  poor  simp!  Come  on. 

[ROSENBAUM  takes  SMITH  back  to  the  chair,  while 
HICKSON  and  STEVE  push  their  way  between  the 
actresses  again  and  go.    EFFIE  settles  herself  com 
fortably  in  the  corner  of  the  couch. 
ROSENBAUM.     [Advancing.']      Attention,    please.     Now 

Mrs.  Dean 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Consulting  notes.]  Oh,  where  was  I?  Oh, 
yes,  Miss  Toby!  [Miss  TOBY,  who  is  made  up  like  a 
"vamp"  with  very  red  lips  and  a  very  white  face,  walks 
down  centre.  MRS.  DEAN  leads  her  down  to  the  foot 
lights.]  My  dear,  more  red  on  your  cheeks,  and  less  on 
your  lips.  I  know  that  your  home  life  is  beyond  re 
proach,  but  if  you're  going  to  look  like  that,  no  one  in  the 
audience  will  believe  it.  [Miss  TOBY  shrugs  her  shoulder, 
goes  up  and  sits  on  window-seat.]  Miss  Farrington. 
[Miss  FARRINGTON,  who  is  talking  to  BILLINGS,  pays  no 
attention  to  MRS.  DEAN.]  Miss  Farrington!  [Miss 
FARRINGTON  walks  down  left  of  MRS.  DEAN  in  a  very  in 
solent  manner.]  When  you're  introduced  to  the  gentlemen 
in  this  act,  smile  pleasantly.  Don't  try  to  lure  them  to 
destruction.  [Miss  FARRINGTON  is  furious.  She  joins  Miss 
TOBY  on  the  window-seat.]  Oh,  Miss  Donahuel  Step 
down,  please!  [Miss  DONAHUE  walks  down  to  the  toot- 
lights.]  Now,  would  you  turn  around,  please?  [Miss 


ACT  m]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  151 

DONAHUE  turns.  She  is  in  an  evening  dress,  which  is  cut 
to  the  "limit"  in  the  back.]  Are  you  dressed  for  the  opera, 
or  exposed  for  an  operation? 

Miss  DONAHUE.  [Very  languidly.]  My  public  is  used 
to  seeing  a  great  deal  of  me. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Winking  at  TOMPKINS.]  They're  not  go 
ing  to  be  disappointed. 

[Miss  DONAHUE  smiles  at  ROSENBAUM.  BILLINGS 
puts  his  monocle  in  his  eye  and,  staring  at  her,  fol 
lows  her  up  to  the  window-seat. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Oh,  Effie!  Erne!  [EFFIE,  rising,  drops  the 
overcoat  from  her  shoulders  and  walks  down  to  MRS.  DEAN, 
who  turns  to  ROSENBAUM.]  Don't  you  think  she  looks  a 
little  young? 

EFFIE.  It's  not  my  fault  if  I've  retained  my  youth  and 
beauty. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Snapping  at  her.]  Mr.  Belden  is  supposed 
to  be  your  son. 

EFFIE.  I  could  have  been  married  when  I  was  sixteen. 
ROSENBAUM.  It's  my  fault.    I  told  her  to  cut  out  the 
grey  hair.    Who  wants  to  look  at  an  old  woman,  if  they 
don't  have  to? 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Satirically.]  You  seem  to  forget  that  she's 
a  broken-hearted  mother.  Trouble  seems  to  make  her  hair 
grow  brighter.  [EFFIE  looks  at  her  indignantly,  and  walks 
away.  MRS.  DEAN  goes  towards  JOHNNY.  She  beckons 
to  ROSENBAUM.]  What's  the  matter  with  Johnny's  nose? 
ROSENBAUM.  I  don't  know.  Let's  look  at  it.  [Calling.] 
Johnny ! 

[JOHNNY,  who  has  been  asleep  in  the  chair  beside  the 
desk,  rouses  himself,  then  comes  down  to  ROSEN 
BAUM  and  MRS.  DEAN.     They  look  at  him.    TOMP 
KINS  rises  and  comes  down  to  the  left  of  JOHNNY. 
EFFIE  turns  and  comes  to  the  right  of  him.    SMITH 
moves  impatiently  in  his  chair. 
JOHNNY.  What  is  it? 
ROSENBAUM.  Your  nose. 


152  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  m 

MRS.  DEAN.  If  you  could  make  it  recede  a  little. 
JOHNNY.  I'm  no  Doctor  Woodbury. 
EFFIE.  Looks  all  right  to  me. 
ROSENBAUM.  Maybe  it's  the  moustache. 
MRS.  DEAN.  Perhaps  if  you  wore  a  bow  tie. 
TOMPKINS.  Have  you  tried  white  grease  paint? 
JOHNNY.  I've  tried  everything  but  putting  a  ring  in  it. 
[Everybody,  even  MRS.  DEAN,  roars  with  laughter, 
which  maddens  SMITH  who  rises  and  rushes  over  to 
them. 

SMITH.  Great  Heavens!  Do  you  people  realise  that  we 
open  tonight? 

[Everyone  stops  and  looks  in  surprise  at  SMITH. 
ROSENBAUM.  Sure,  we  realise  it. 

SMITH.  Then  why  don't  you  get  down  to  business,  get 
to  something  important? 

MRS.  DEAN.  Important?     These  things  are  vital. 
SMITH.  Vital!     Is  his  nose  vital? 
JOHNNY.  I  can't  get  along  without  it. 

[Everybody  laughs  again. 

SMITH.  [Furiously.']  You've  seen  him  wear  it  every 
night  for  two  weeks.  Why  wait  until  the  last  minute  to 
attend  to  such  fiddling  details? 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Angrily}  If  we  hadn't  had  to  "fiddle"  so 
much  with  that  ill-constructed  mass  of  verbiage,  you  call  a 
play. 

[She  walks  away  to  the  right.  SMITH  to  the  left. 
ROSENBAUM.  Come,  come,  children,  this  is  a  rehearsal, 
not  a  prize  fight.  [He  runs  to  MRS.  DEAN  and  whispers.] 
After  all,  he  is  the  author.  Humour  him  now.  We'll  do 
what  we  like  afterwards.  [He  runs  over  to  SMITH,  whis 
pers.]  Humour  her.  She's  a  bear. 

[He  puts  his  arm  through  SMITH'S  and  drags  him  over 
to  MRS.  DEAN,  then  putting  his  arm  through  MRS. 
DEAN'S,  he  stands  between  them  smiling.  They 
are  the  personification  of  dislike  and  antagonism. 


ACT  m]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  153 

ROSENBAUM.  Now,  we're  all  friends  again,  see.     [To 
MRS.  DEAN.]     Now,  what  next? 

MRS.  DEAN.  [WitheringlyJ]  Oh,  no,  let's  straighten  out 
Mr.  Smith's  little  worries. 

[She  moves  away  to  the  right  and  leans  against  the 
proscenium  arch.  JOHNNY  and  EFFIE,  who  is  again 
wearing  JERRY'S  overcoat,  are  seated  on  the  couch, 
TOMPKINS  beside  the  desk,  the  others  in  the  window- 
seat. 

ROSENBAUM.  [To  SMITH.]  Now,  what's  on  your  mind? 

SMITH.  [Impressively.}  Well,  I've  always  thought  that 

if  Mrs.  Brinkley  and  Mr.  Belden  played  their  scene  on 

that  side  of  the  stage  [indicating  right],  instead  of  on  this 

side  [indicating  left],  it  would  improve  it  wonderfully. 

[He  smiles  in  selj -satisfaction. 
EFFIE.  More  study. 

MRS.  DEAN.  My  dear,  let's  do  anything  that  will  im 
prove  it. 

[SMITH  glares  at  MRS.  DEAN  and  walks  away  to  the 

left. 

ROSENBAUM.  Tompkins,  we'll  take  Mrs.  Brinkley's  and 
Belden's  scene. 

[Enter  the  SCENE  PAINTER  with  a  ladder.  He  rests  it 
against  the  frame  of  the  door  at  the  right,  then  get 
ting  the  paint  pail  from  the  armchair,  climbs  up  on 
ladder. 

TOMPKINS.  [Calling.]  Mrs.  Brinkley  and  Belden!    Clear 
everybody ! 

[Miss  TOBY,  Miss  FARRINGTON  and  BILLINGS  exit 
hurriedly  and  then  reappear  at  the  door  at  the  left, 
to  watch  the  rehearsal  of  the  scene.  JOHNNY  and 
Miss  DONAHUE  drag  themselves  off  wearily  not  in 
terested  in  anything.  MRS.  DEAN  goes  to  the  pro 
scenium  arch  at  the  right,  ROSENBAUM,  to  it  at  the 
left.  TOMPKINS  turns  and  sees  the  SCENE  PAINTER. 
TOMPKINS.  [Furiously.']  Painter!  I  said  clear. 


154  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  m 

[The  painter  pays  not  the  slightest  attention.    There 

is  a  pause. 

ROSENBAUM.  Oh,  let  him  paint. 

EFFIE.  [Wearily  to  MRS.  DEAN.]  Where  do  you  want 
me  to  begin? 

MRS.  DEAN.  Ask  the  author. 

SMITH.  From  Belden's  entrance.  [ EFFIE  starts  to  walk 
over  to  the  desk  at  the  left.  SMITH  rushes  to  her.]  And 
we're  going  to  play  it  over  there. 

[He  points  to  the  right. 

EFFIE.  [Angrily.']  It's  a  fine  time  to  fuss  me  in  the  only 
scene  I  have  in  the  play.  [SMITH  strides  away  furiously. 
EFFIE,  thinking  she  "has  him,"  points  to  a  photograph  on 
the  desk.]  [Innocently.]  How  do  I  get  that  photograph? 

SMITH.  [Sarcastically.]  Don't  you  think 

EFFIE.  [Sweetly.]  I  have  been  engaged  to  act,  not  to 
think. 

[SMITH  gives  it  up  in  despair  and  goes  to  his  chair  at 
the  proscenium  and  sinks  into  it  wearily.     ROSEN 
BAUM  tries  to  console  him.     MRS.  DEAN  looks  over 
at  them  in  sarcastic  pity.    JERRY  and  BETTY,  un 
seen  by  anyone,  do  a  fox  trot  back  of  the  window 
from  the  right  to  the  left  and  disappear.     EFFIE 
stands  victorious  in  the  centre.     TOMPKINS  is  de 
lighted  with  her. 
EFFIE.  [Patiently.]  Well? 
MRS.  DEAN.  Oh,  take  it  with  you. 
EFFIE.  [Getting  the  photograph  from  the  desk.]  Is  this 
supposed  to  be  my  son's  photograph? 
SMITH.  Certainly,  certainly. 

EFFIE.  Well,  I  might  have  something  to  get  me  into  a 
sentimental  frame  of  mind.  This  is  Lillian  Russell. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Taking    it,     hands    it    to    TOMPKINS.] 
Tompkins,  make  a  note  of  that. 
TOMPKINS.  Hickson! 

[HICKSON  appears  at  the  door  at  the  left. 
HICKSON.  [Snarling.]  What  do  you  want? 


ACT  in]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  155 

TOMPKINS.  [Handing    the    photograph    to    HICKSON.] 
Strike  Russell! 

[HICKSON  takes  the  photograph  and  goes. 

EFFIE.  M-m-m-m-m-m-m — long     speech     ending     with 

[very  sweetly]  "overflowing  with  tenderness."     [JERRY  and 

BETTY  fox-trot  across  back  of  the  window  left  to  right,  and 

disappear.     There   is   a  pause.     Acidly.]      "Overflowing 

with  tenderness " 

[A  pause. 
ROSENBAUM.  [Irritated.]  Where's  Belden? 

[BETTY  and  JERRY,  still  unobserved,  trot  back  of  the 

window,  doing  a  back  and  forward  step. 
TOMPKINS.  [At  the  desk.]  I  called  him. 
MRS.    DEAN.    [Viciously   calling.]      "Overflowing   with 

tenderness " 

TOMPKINS.  Oh  Belden! 

BETTY.  [Off  stage.]  Jerry,  your  cue! 

JERRY.  Coming! 

[In  crossing  to  the  right  at  the  back  of  the  window,  he 
knocks  a  large  tray  off  the  top  of  a  bunch  light,  then 
he  appears  at  the  door  where  the  PAINTER  is  on  the 
ladder. 

EVERYBODY.  The  ladder!     The  ladder!     Don't  walk  un 
der  the  ladder! 

[JERRY  disappears,  then  is  seen  running  past  the  win 
dow  to  the  door  at  the  rear,  from  which  he  enters 
breathlessly. 

JERRY.  I'm  sorry.  [He  walks  down  to  the  chair  at  the 
desk,  turns  and  sees  EFFIE  on  the  couch.]      What  are  you 
doing  over  there? 
EFFIE.  Don't  ask  me. 
JERRY.  How  do  I  get  there! 
ROSENBAUM.  Walk. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Unless  you've  developed  locomotor  ataxia. 
EFFIE.  [Crossly.]  Oh,   come   on.      [She  rises,  goes   to 
JERRY,  and  puts  her  hands  on  his  shoulder  and  in  the  char- 


156  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  m 

acter  oj  MR.  BENNETT,  speaks  tenderly.']    "My  son!     My 
son!" 

[She  is  interrupted  by  the  crash  of  a  falling  object  off 

stage. 
TOMPKINS.  [Yelling.]  Quiet  off  stage! 

EFFIE.   "My " 

[Again  she  is  interrupted  by  a  similar  sound. 
M'GiNNis.  [Off  stage.]  Hey  Monk,  keep  quiet. 

JERRY.    "Mother — mother — you " 

MONK.  [Off  stage.]  Damn  slave  driver! 
ROSENBAUM.  Quiet  off  stage! 

EFFIE.  "Promise  me  you'll  never  do  this  again — or " 

M'GiNNis.  [Off  stage.]  I'll  cave  in  yer  dome! 

[JERRY     laughs.     EFFIE     moves    away     in    disgust. 

SMITH  rises  and  rushes  to  ROSENBAUM. 
SMITH.  [Bitterly.]  Marvellous  discipline! 
ROSENBAUM.  Oh,  cut  to  the  exit. 

[EFFIE  goes  to  JERRY,  places  her  hands  on  his  shoul 
ders,  looking  up  into  his  face  with  a  sweet,  motherly 
expression. 

EFFIE.   "You've  made  me  so  happy!     My  son!" 
JERRY.  Do  you  want  me  to  move  away  from  here  now? 
EFFIE.  [Grabs  him  by  the  shoulder,  very  angrily.]  You 
stand  still  until  I  get  through  with  you.    [Tenderly.]    "My 

son,  my  son."    Kiss.    Bing 

[She  makes  a  motion  of  kissing  him  on  the  left  cheek, 
then  on  the  right. 

JERRY.  Bing 

EFFIE.  Let  me  see.  I  turned  that  way,  now  I  turn  this 
way.  [She  starts  for  the  rear  door,  scowling  at  SMITH.] 
Well,  I  hope  I  get  off,  it's  a  mile  up  to  this  door. 

[She  meets  JOHNNY,  who  is  waiting  for  her  with  a  cup 
of  coffee.  They  both  disappear  off  left,  EFFIE  talk 
ing  angrily. 

ROSENBAUM.  What  else? 
SMITH.  [Coming  to  the  centre.]  The  love  scene. 


ACT  m]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  157 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Moving  toward  him.]  Do  you  think  it's 
necessary? 

JERRY.  Oh  sure,  I'd  like  to.     [He  dashes  up  to  the  rear 
door  and  calls  off  stage.]    Oh,  Betty! 
BETTY.  [Off  stage.]  In  a  minute! 

SMITH.  [To  MRS.  DEAN.]  Belden  is  the  limit  in  that 
love  scene! 

[ BETTY. appears  at  the  rear  door  carrying  two  cups  of 

coffee.    She  comes  down  to  her  mother. 
BETTY.  Here  mother. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Taking  the  cup.]  Thank  you,  darling. 
BETTY.  [Offering  the  cup  to  SMITH.]  Mr.  Smith. 
SMITH.  Oh,  no. 

[He  waves  it  aside  impatiently  and  goes  to  the  couch 
where  he  sits.     BETTY  gives  the  cup  to  JERRY,  who 
puts  it  on  the  stand  in  the  left  corner  of  the  window. 
JERRY.  [Eagerly.]  Come  on,  the  love  scene. 

[Miss  DONAHUE  appears  at  the  back  of  the  window 
and  sits  on  the  off  stage  side  of  the  window-seat. 
BETTY  and  JERRY  take  positions  at  the  centre, 
BETTY  at  the  right  of  JERRY.  MRS.  DEAN  stands 
at  the  proscenium  arch,  at  the  right.  TOMPKINS 
is  seated  on  the  desk  with  the  manuscript.  ROSEN- 
BAUM  stands  beside  him. 
JERRY.  Are  you  set? 

BETTY.  [Striking  an  affected  attitude.]  Uh  huh! 
JERRY.  Oh,  excuse  me  a  minute. 

[He  crosses  to  BETTY  and  they  try  three  positions  of 
the  arms  in  an  embrace,  and  each  time  JERRY  kisses 
her.    SMITH  looks  at  MRS.  DEAN  imploringly. 
MRS.  DEAN.  [Wearily.]  We're  waiting,  Mr.  Belden. 
JERRY.  Just  getting  the  finish  right. 
MRS.  DEAN.  Well,  we  won't  overdo  it. 

[She  puts  her  coffee  cup  on  the  mantel.  BETTY,  her 
back  towards  JERRY,  re-assumes  her  pose.  JERRY 
goes  to  the  left  of  her. 


158  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  in 

JERRY.  Ah — ah — m-m-m-m-m-m 

[He  turns  and  looks  at  TOMPKINS. 

TOMPKINS.  [Prompting  him.]    "Oh  my— 

JERRY.   "Oh  my "     [He  looks  at  TOMPKINS  again.] 

Oh  my  what? 

TOMPKINS.    [Prompting.]     "Adored " 

JERRY  Adored.  "Oh,  my  adored  one."  [He  goes  to 
SMITH.]  Say,  can't  we  can  that  "adored  one"? 

SMITH.  [Jumping  up.]  Why? 

JERRY.  I'd  never  say  that. 

SMITH.  [To  MRS.  DEAN.]  He'd  never  say  that!      [To 

JERRY.]     You'd  never Do  you  realise  I've  worked 

days  and  nights  to  find  that  phrase? 

JERRY.  [Laughingly.]  Did  you?  Well,  I  can  find  a 
whole  raft  of  things  to  say  to  her  and  not  half  try.  Can't 
I,  Betty? 

[SMITH  falls  back  on  the  couch.    JERRY  goes  up  to 
take  BETTY  in  his  arms. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Furiously.]  Mr.  Belden,  this  is  a  re 
hearsal  ! 

JERRY.  Oh,  excuse  me!     [He  takes  his  position  at  the  lejt 

of   BETTY.]      Ah — m-m-m-m-m-m-m [Laughing,   he 

looks  at  TOMPKINS  for  assistance.]     Isn't  that  a  funny 
thing? 

TOMPKINS.  [Angrily.]  The  same. 

JERRY.  Oh,  yes.  [Very  amateurishly.]  "Oh,  my  adored 
one.  I  love  you  with  a  fever " 

SMITH.  [Jumping  up  from  the  couch  distractedly.] 
Fervour!  Fervour! 

JERRY.  "I  love  you  with  a  fervour  that's  undying.  [He 
advances  one  step  awkwardly  toward  BETTY.]  Can't  you 
[another  step],  won't  you  [another  step]  love  me  just  a 
little  in  return?" 

BETTY.    [Passionately.]    "I  love  you  now." 

[She  turns  and  throws  herself  into  his  arms. 

JERRY.    [Casually.']    "And  I  love  you." 

[SMITH  looks  at  him  in  disgust,  then  throws  himself 


ACT  m]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  159 

upon  the  couch.  MRS.  DEAN,  overcome  by  the  hor 
ror  of  his  acting,  bows  her  head  on  the  mantel-piece. 
ROSENBAUM  shivers,  then  looks  at  TOMPKINS,  whose 
expression  is  one  of  pain.  BETTY  moves  away 
wearily  and  sits  beside  Miss  DONAHUE  on  the  win 
dow-seat. 

ROSENBAUM.  Oh,  it's  so  tame! 
MRS.  DEAN.  [Despairingly.']  I  give  it  up. 

[She  joins  SMITH  on  the  couch. 
ROSENBAUM.  What  do  you  think,  Tompkins? 

TOMPKINS.  [Rising.]  If  he  got  a  little,  a  little 

[He  tries  to  illustrate  "pep"  by  a  movement  of  his 

hands. 

ROSENBAUM.  Yes,     that's    a     good     idea.     Oh     Jerry. 
[JERRY  joins  them.]     Now,  what  you  want  in  this  scene 

is  a  little 

[He  imitates  TOMPKINS'  gesture. 
[SMITH,  afraid  that  they  are  going  to  do  something 
else  to  his  play,  rushes  down  to  the  group.    TOMP 
KINS  and  ROSENBAUM  repeat  their  gesture.    JERRY 
watches    them   utterly    bewildered,    then   imitating 
them,  turns  to  SMITH. 
JERRY.  What  does  that  mean? 

[ROSENBAUM  and  TOMPKINS  look  despairingly  at 
JERRY,  then  shaking  their  heads  despondently,  move 
away,  ROSENBAUM  sitting  in  the  chair  at  the  pro 
scenium  arch  at  the  left,  TOMPKINS  on  the  desk,  his 
back  to  JERRY. 

SMITH.  I  suppose  he  means  to  put  in  a  little  pep! 
JERRY.  Mrs.  Dean  asked  me  to  tone  it  down. 
SMITH.  No,  no!     And  Miss  Dean  [going  up  to  her],  get 
a  little  abandon  into  it. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Jumping  up.]  Betty!     Some  chaste  aban 
don. 

[She  goes  to  the  proscenium  arch  at  the  right.  SMITH, 

hopeless,  sits  on  the  couch. 
ROSENBAUM.  [Impatiently]  Oh  go  on,  take  the  finish. 


160  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  HI 

[BETTY  rising,  comes  toward  JERRY.    He  puts  his 

arms  around  her. 

JERRY.  [Indifferently.}  "I  love  you."  [Passionately.']  Oh 
Lord!     How  much  I  love  you! 

SMITH.  [Rising.']  That  last  line  isn't  in  the  part. 
JERRY.  It  just  slipped  out  naturally. 
BETTY.  Oh  say  it,  Jerry,  it  sounds  awfully  sweet. 
SMITH.  Oh,  are  you  going  to  re-write  my  piece,  too,  Miss 
Dean? 

MRS.    DEAN.  Everybody    else    has,    why    discriminate 
against  my  daughter? 

[SMITH  rushes  to  leave  the  stage.    ROSENBAUM  rises 

and  grabs  him. 
ROSENBAUM.  Oh,  what  makes  you  authors  so  sensitive? 

MRS.  DEAN.  Now,  if  Mr.  Smith  has  finished 

SMITH.  Oh,  I'm  through,  I'm  through. 

[He  sits  on  the  chair  from  which  ROSENBAUM  has 

risen. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Taking  command.]  Then  we'll  take  the 
third  act  climax. 
JERRY.  Oh,  the  one  I'm  punk  in? 

MRS.   DEAN.  That  designation  would  fit  any  of  your 
scenes. 

JERRY.  Will  you  tell  me  what  you  want  me  to  do? 
MRS.  DEAN.  Do  you  know  what  Dora's  Dilemma  is? 
JERRY.  No,  do  you? 

MRS.  DEAN.  You've  been  playing  in  this  piece  for  two 
weeks. 

JERRY.  You  could  play  in  this  piece  for  two  years  and 
not  know  what  it's  about. 

SMITH.  [Rushing  at  JERRY.]  Oh,  is  that  so? 
JERRY.  I  beg  your  pardon.     Where  am  I  worst? 
MRS.  DEAN.  Words  fail  me!     [To  ROSENBAUM.]     You 
talk  to  him. 

[She  sinks  on  the  couch,  utterly  worn  out.  SMITH 
joins  Miss  DONAHUE  on  the  window-seat.  She 
tries  to  console  him.  BETTY  sits  in  the  chair  be- 


ACT  m]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  161 

side  the  desk  on  which  TOMPKINS  is  seated.  Miss 
FARRINGTON,  Miss  TOBY  and  BILLINGS  leave  their 
post  of  observation  at  the  door  at  the  left.  EFFIE 
appears  yawning,  and  goes  to  the  chair  where  SMITH 
has  been  seated  and  huddled  in  JERRY'S  overcoat, 
jails  asleep.  JERRY,  eager  to  do  what  is  asked  of 
him,  stands  at  the  centre.  ROSENBAUM  advances  on 
him  belligerently. 

ROSENBAUM.  You're  afraid  your  firm  will  miss  the  bonds. 
You've  come  here  to  Chapman's  library  to  get  them.  You're 
desperate. 
JERRY.  Why  am  I  desperate? 

[ROSENBAUM  looks  at  him.  He  gives  it  up  and  joins 
MRS.  DEAN  on  the  couch.  SMITH  rushes  down  to 
JERRY. 

SMITH.  Great  Heavens!  Didn't  you  tell  your  mother 
earlier  in  this  act  that  if  you  didn't  get  the  bonds  you'd 
commit  suicide? 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Bitterly.]  Sometimes  I  wish  he  had. 
BETTY.  [Rising  impatiently,  goes  to  JERRY.]  Oh,  never 
mind  what  it  all  means.     It's  a  part,  Jerry, — act  it. 

[She  returns  to  the  chair  wearily. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Rising.]  We'll  take  the  scene  from  "Be 
hind  the  curtain." 

[Miss  DONAHUE  leaves  the  window-seat  and  disap 
pears  to  the  right,  Miss  TOBY  and  Miss  FARRINGTON 
appear  at  the  back  of  the  window  going  towards  the 
left.  SMITH  takes  a  position  at  the  back  of  the 
couch.  ROSENBAUM  remains  seated  on  it.  MRS. 
DEAN  goes  to  the  right  to  watch  the  scene.  JERRY 
goes  up  to  the  window-seat,  TOMPKINS  to  the  door, 
BETTY  following  him. 

TOMPKINS.  Oh,  Billings,  Brinkley!     On  stage. 
BILLINGS.  Coming. 

[BILLINGS  and  JOHNNY  enter. 

TOMPKINS.  Ready  everybody.    The  struggle  in  the  dark. 
[BETTY  takes  her  position  at  the  door,  her  back  to  the 


162  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  m 

spectators,  her  hand  outstretched  towards  the  button 
that  is  supposed  to  switch  on  the  electric  lights. 
BILLINGS  stands  behind  the  desk,  JOHNNY  in  front 
of  it. 
JOHNNY.  [Very  dramatically.]  Bla-bla-bla — long  speech 

ending  in  "Behind  the  curtain " 

JERRY.  [Standing    on    the    window-seat.']  Where's    my 
overcoat? 

[He  jumps  off  the  seat. 

MRS.  DEAN.  How  should  I  know?     Ask  the  stage  man 
ager. 

TOMPKINS.  Now  I'm  the  coat  room  boy. 
JOHNNY.  Heaven  preserve  us  from  these  amateurs. 
[SMITH  looks  for  it  at  the  back  of  the  couch,  ROSEN- 
BAUM  underneath  it,  MRS.  DEAN  under  the  chair  at 
the    right,    TOMPKINS     behind    the    window-seat. 
BETTY,  BILLINGS  and  JOHNNY  wait,  resignedly. 
ROSENBAUM.  I  paid  sixty  dollars  for  that  coat. 
BETTY.  [Impatiently.]  Jerry,  where  did  you  put  it? 
JERRY.  I  don't  know. 

SMITH.  Is  there  any  damn  thing  you  do  know? 
BETTY.  Effie's  got  it  on. 

JOHNNY.  That  woman  would  sleep  anywhere.     [He  goes 
to  her  and  shakes  her.]     Brooklyn!     All  out! 

EFFIE.  Why  did  you  wake  me?     I  dreamt  the  play  was 
a  hit! 

[Everybody  is  disgusted.  JERRY  laughs,  but  subsides 
as  they  all  turn  and  stare  at  him  witheringly.  EFFIE 
rises,  JOHNNY  grabs  the  coat  and  takes  it  to  JERRY 
who  puts  it  on.  EFFIE,  yawning  and  shivering  with 
the  cold,  starts  for  the  door  at  the  left.  SMITH 
crossing  to  the  chair  where  EFFIE  has  been  seated, 
glowers  at  her.  EFFIE  tosses  her  head  and  goes. 
MRS.  DEAN  is  leaning  against  the  proscenium  arch 
at  the  right,  ROSENBAUM  beside  her.  BETTY,  BIL 
LINGS  and  JOHNNY  take  their  places.  TOMPKINS 


ACT  m]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  163 

stands  in  the  door  at  the  left,  holding  the  manu 
script.    JERRY  starts  for  the  window. 
JERRY.  [Stopping.]  Where  are  the  bonds? 
JOHNNY.  [Giving  him  the  bonds  which  he  has  taken 
from  the  desk.']  You  ought  to  have  a  nurse! 
TOMPKINS.  [Wearily.']  Ready,  ready! 

[JERRY  gets  up  on  the  window-seat. 
JOHNNY.  [Very     dramatically.']  Bla-bla — long     speech, 

ending  with  "Behind  the  curtain" 

JERRY.  Where's  the  curtain? 
MRS.  DEAN.  We  will  simulate  the  curtain. 
JERRY.  What  do  I  do  to  the  curtain? 
BETTY.  Oh,  pretend  there's  one  there. 
TOMPKINS.  [Despairingly. ]  Ready! 
JERRY.  Now  wait  a  minute,  there's  going  to  be  a  cur 
tain? 

ROSENBAUM.  [Fiercely.]  Of  course,  of  course! 
JERRY.  No  harm  in  asking.    I  was  only  introduced  to 
this  window  tonight. 

[He  gets  in  position  to  leap  from  the  window-seat. 
TOMPKINS.  Ready,  Johnny? 

JOHNNY.  Wait  a  minute.     [To  JERRY.]     Have  you  got 
everything? 

JERRY.  [Feeling  in  the  pocket  of  his  overcoat.]  Yes. 
JOHNNY.  Bla-bla-bla  long  speech  ending  with  "behind  the 
curtain." 

BETTY.  [At    door.]  Business.      Button.     Lights    out — 
bing! 

[On  the  word  "bing"  she  presses  the  button  on  the 
right  side  of  the  door.  The  lights  do  not  go  out. 
Everybody  on  the  stage  looks  up  to  see  what  is  the 
matter  with  the  lights.  BETTY  comes  down  impa 
tiently. 

BETTY.  Oh  mother,  why  don't  the  lights  go  out? 
ROSENBAUM.  Call  the  electrician! 
TOMPKINS.  [Calling.]  Goldman! 


164  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  m 

HICKSON.  [Appearing  at  the  rear  door.]  The  electri 
cian's  gone  to  breakfast. 

[He  goes. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Mr.  Belden,  we'll 

JERRY.  We  will  simulate  the  darkness.  I  get  you,  I 
get  you. 

BETTY.  [BETTY  returns  to  the  door,  repeating  the  busi 
ness  of  pushing  the  button.]  Business,  button,  lights  out, 
bing! 

[BILLINGS  starts  jor  the  window.    JERRY  springs  off 
the  window-seat.     They  seize  each  other  fiercely,  and 
struggle.     BETTY  rushes  behind  them  to  the  back  of 
the  couch,  and  begins,  apparently,  to  look  for  some 
thing.    She  is  being  very  dramatic.    Suddenly  she 
stops  and  runs  toward  MRS.  DEAN. 
BETTY.  [Shrieking.]  Mother!      Mother!      He's  got   on 
the  overcoat.     [She  rushes  at  JERRY  in  a  jury.]    Jerry  Bel- 
den,  if  you  forget  to  take  that  overcoat  off  tonight,  behind 
that  curtain  and  leave  it  there  for  me  [pointing  to  the  back 
of  the  couch]  I'll  die  right  here. 

[She  sits  on  the  couch,  her  head  buried  in  her  hands. 
JERRY.  [Going  to  her.]  That's  all  right.     I  won't  forget 
it,  but  if  I  do,  don't  worry! 

[BILLINGS  is  standing  by  the  desk.  JERRY  leaps 
through  the  air  and  lands  on  him.  They  begin  to 
struggle  fiercely.  ROSENBAUM  rushes  and  grabs 
JERRY;  MRS.  DEAN,  following  him,  tries  to  get  to 
JERRY  SMITH  runs  up  and  seizes  BILLINGS.  They 
try  to  stop  the  struggle,  but  as  it  is  the  one  thing 
that  JERRY  can  do  well,  he  continues  and  pulls 
everybody  to  and  fro  in  the  room.  Finally  it  pene 
trates  to  him  that  they  want  to  tell  him  something, 
so  he  stops. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Shrieking  at  JERRY.]  It's  her  stealing  the 
bonds  out  of  your  overcoat  when  you  are  being  searched 
that  is  the  big  moment  of  the  act. 


ACT  m]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  165 

ROSENBAUM.  [Raging.]  If  you  have  the  coat  on,  how 
is  she  going  to  get  them? 

SMITH.  [Wildly.]  The  overcoat's  the  plot  of  my  piece. 
JERRY.  [Placidly.]  All  right,  all  right!     No  need  to  get 
excited.     I'll  take  it  off. 

[He  takes  off  the  overcoat,  puts  it  on  the  back  of  the 
couch  and  starts  for  the  window-seat.  MRS.  DEAN, 
very  much  shaken,  moves  away,  supported  on  one 
side  by  ROSENBAUM,  and  on  the  other  by  SMITH. 
It  is  the  one  moment  in  which  the  three  are  in  ac 
cord. 

SMITH.  Can  you  beat  it!  Forgot  to  take  off  the  over 
coat! 

ROSENBAUM.  You'll  never  get  your  curtain  down  tonight 
if  he  does  it. 

MRS.  DEAN.  If  I  had  the  strength  to  do  it,  I'd  strangle 
him  now. 

TOMPKINS.  [Resignedly.]  Ready!     Ready! 

[BETTY,  BILLINGS  and  JOHNNY  "gain  take  their  posi 
tions.  ROSIE  and  MRS.  DEAN  go  over  to  the  right. 
SMITH  to  his  chair  at  the  left.  They  wait.  JERRY 
starts  to  get  on  the  window-seat,  stops  and  comes 
down. 

JERRY.  Excuse  me,  I'll  tell  you  what  rattles  me.  It's 
just  going  over  bits  of  the  scene.  I  don't  know  where  I'm 
at  to  have  somebody  say — "bla-bla-bla — long  speech  end 
ing  in  'Behind  the  curtain.' ':  It  gets  my  nanny.  Now  if 
we  could  only  go  over  the  whole  thing  once. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Well,  I  suppose 

BETTY.  [Coming  down  angrily.]  We  haven't  done  the 
last  act  yet.  I  want  a  few  hours'  sleep  before  the  per 
formance. 

[She  returns  to  the  door. 

JERRY.  It's  easy  enough  for  you  people,  but  I'm  not  an 
actor. 

SMITH.  I  should  say  not! 


166  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  m 

JERRY   Say,  you're  not  any  more  stuck  on  me  than  I  am 
on  myself. 

[MAGGINIS  enters  from  the  rear  door  yawning.  He 
looks  up  at  the  ceiling  and  then  calls  to  the  men  in 
the  "flies." 

MAGINNIS.  Hey  you,  come  on  down  with  yer  back  lines, 
yer  back  lines,  you  dope! 

JERRY.  [Turning  to  MAGINNIS.]  Are  you  talking  to  me? 

MAGGINIS.  No,  I  don't  talk  to  actors! 

{The  ceiling  is  lowered  into  place  with  a  rush,  and 
MAGGINIS  goes. 

JERRY.  Oh,  let  her  go! 

BETTY.  Business — door — button — lights  out — bing! 
[JERRY  dashes  out  from  the  window  and  throws  the 
overcoat  on  the  back  of  the  couch.  BETTY  runs  to 
get  the  bonds  from  the  pocket.  BILLINGS  rushes  at 
JERRY,  who  grabs  him  and  they  begin  to  rehearse  in 
plain  view  an  old  fashioned  "struggle  in  the  dark"  in 
which  violent  noise  is  more  important  than  violent 
action.  With  JERRY'S  assistance,  BILLINGS  vaults 
lightly  in  the  air  and  JERRY  holds  him  above  his 
head,  then  jails  slowly  backward  with  BILLINGS  on 
top  of  him,  both  grunting  loudly. 

BILLINGS.  Are  you  all  right? 

JERRY.  Yes.     Choke  me. 

[BILLINGS  does  so  and  JERRY  emits  sounds  of  stran 
gling.  They  roll  over.  JERRY,  who  is  on  top,  rises 
and  standing  over  BILLINGS,  takes  him  by  the  shoul 
ders  and  slams  him  gently  up  and  down  two  or  three 
times  as  BILLINGS  groans  and  imitates  the  sound  of 
a  falling  body  by  knocking  loudly  on  the  floor  with 
his  heel. 

JERRY.  Are  you  comfortable? 

BILLINGS.  Oh,  very! 

[JERRY  pulls  BILLINGS  up  on  his  feet,  then  turns  him 
around,  his  back  to  the  desk,  and  begins  to  back  him 
towards  it. 


ACT  m]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  167 

JERRY.  One — two — three — slap! 

[He  slaps  BILLINGS'  open  hand  which  BILLINGS  holds 

up  to  the  left  side  of  his  face.    BILLINGS  groans. 
JERRY.  One — two — three — slap [The  same  "busi 
ness"  is  repeated.     BILLINGS  groans  very  loudly.     They 
back  to  the  right  of  the  desk.    JERRY,  holding  BILLINGS  up 
very  carefully ,  pushes  a  desk  blotter  and  the  phone  out  of 
the  way,  then  lays  BILLINGS  very  gently  on  the  top  of  the 
desk.]     I'm  not  hurting  you? 
BILLINGS.  Not  at  all,  old  dear! 

[JERRY  slaps  the  desk  loudly  with  his  right  hand.  BIL 
LINGS  groans  frightfully.  JERRY  pulls  BILLINGS  up 
on  his  feet.  BILLINGS  pushes  JERRY  lightly  away. 
JERRY  staggers  backwards  wildly  to  the  right. 
JOHNNY  points  at  him  dramatically. 
JOHNNY.  "Search  him!" 

BILLINGS.  "Put  up  your  hands!  [JERRY  hesitates.  BETTY 
gets  the  bonds  out  of  the  overcoat  pocket.']  Put  up  your 
hands!" 

[He  points  the  revolver  at  JERRY,  who  puts  up  his 
hands.     BETTY   rushes   down   between   JERRY   and 
BILLINGS  to  the  centre,  making  a  picture  with  the 
bonds  held  high  over  her  head  in  her  right  hand. 
BETTY.  "Stop!     Here  are  the  bonds!     I  am  the  thief!" 
TOMPKINS.  Curtain! 

[He  imitates  with  a  downward  motion  of  his  hand  the 
jailing  of  the  curtain.  BETTY,  JOHNNY  and  BIL 
LINGS  "hold  the  picture,"  tensely  dramatic  in  their 
attitudes  and  expressions.  JERRY  turns  to  the  front 
and  grins  idiotically,  destroying  the  effect  of  the 
climax.  The  others  see  him  and  "break  the  pic 
ture,"  BETTY  sitting  in  the  window-seat,  JOHNNY  in 
the  chair,  in  front  of  the  desk,  TOMPKINS  on  the 
desk,  BILLINGS  in  the  chair  at  the  right  of  the  desk, 
SMITH  skimps  despairingly  in  his  chair  at  the  left, 
MRS.  DEAN  on  the  couch  and  beside  her  ROSEN- 
BAUM  holding  her  hand.  Their  backs  are  turned  -^ 


168  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  m 

JERRY,  who  is  so  awful  they  cannot  bear  to  look 
at  him.  JERRY  looks  at  them,  smiling  a  little  wist 
fully.  There  is  a  pause,  then  JERRY  worried,  al 
most  jrightened,  joins  BETTY  on  the  window-seat. 
She  refuses  to  talk  to  him. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Rising,  beckoning  to  SMITH.]  Well,  what 
do  you  think? 

SMITH.   [Meeting  him.]  Terrible! 
MRS.  DEAN.  [Going  to  them.]  I  don't  believe  we  can 
open  with  him. 

SMITH.  Every  time  he  comes  on  he  takes  the  child  of 
my  brain  and  simply  chokes  it  to  death. 

ROSENBAUM.  Let's  take  it  from  his  first  entrance.  Maybe 
he  can  work  into  it.  Children,  we'll  take  it  over  from 
Jerry's  entrance. 

[SMITH,  ROSENBAUM  and  MRS.  DEAN  return  to 
their  places  at  the  left  and  at  the  right.  JOHNNY 
sits  in  the  chair  in  front  of  the  desk.  BILLINGS 
goes. 

BETTY.  Oh  dear! 

JERRY.  Now  wait  a  minute.    This  is  the  place  that  I 
wear  the  overcoat? 
MRS.   DEAN.  [Angrily.']  Yes. 
JERRY.  Good. 

TOMPKINS.  [Calling.']  Oh,  Hickson,  ready  with  your 
door  slam. 

HICKSON.  [Off  stage.]  All  right. 

[TOMPKINS  goes  out  the  rear  door,  shutting  it. 

BETTY.  [Indifferently.]  Business — bonds — door.        [She 

opens  the  rear  door.    As  she  does  so  ('a  door  slam"  is 

heard  off  stage.]  [Dramatically.]    "My  God!    Henderson!" 

[She  looks  around  wildly,  then  running  to  the  desk, 

sits  beside  it  and  falls  forward  across  it  as  though 

fainting. 

TOMPKINS.  [Entering  as  HENDERSON  looks  at  her,  then 
rushes  off,  crying.]  "Help!  Help!  Help!" 


ACT  m]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  169 

[JERRY  enters  from  the  window,  wearing  a  light  over 
coat .    He  sees  BETTY. 
JERRY.   "Dora!    Dora!    What's  happened?" 
BETTY.    [Rushing  to  him  wildly.']    "Dick!    Dick!    Here 
are  your  bonds! " 

[She  puts  the  bonds  in  the  pocket  of  JERRY'S  overcoat. 

JERRY  puts  his  arms  about  her  carelessly. 
JERRY,    [In  a  spiritless  sing-song.]    "Oh  Dora,  you  have 
saved  my  honour." 

[BETTY  pushes  JERRY  away  from  her  and  sits  on  the 
desk,  her  back  to  him.  JOHNNY  throws  himself 
disgustedly  in  the  chair  at  the  front  of  the  desk. 
TOMPKINS  enters  the  rear  door  and  jails  in  the  arm 
chair  at  the  left.  SMITH  collapses  utterly.  ROSEN- 
BAUM  staggers  to  the  proscenium  arch  at  the  right, 
burying  his  head  in  his  arms.  JERRY,  bewildered, 
walks  to  the  door  at  the  right.  MRS.  DEAN  rises, 
staggers  towards  ROSENBAUM,  who  has  turned  and 
advanced  to  meet  her.  ROSENBAUM  supports  her  in 
his  arms. 

MRS.  DEAN.  This  is  awful!     Awful! 
ROSENBAUM.  Can't  you  show  him? 
MRS.  DEAN.  I'll  try.    Mr.  Belden,  stand  down,  please. 
See  if  you  can  get  a  faint  glimmering  by  watching  me. 
[JERRY,  frightened  by  her  tone,  comes  down,  giving  her  a 
wide  berth  and  in  doing  so  stumbles  into  the  jootlight  trough. 
He    scrambles    out    and   stands   watching   her.]      Ready, 
Betty. 

BETTY.  [Turning  around.]  Oh,  let  Mr.  Tompkins  stand 
for  me.     I'm  so  tired. 
TOMPKINS.  I  can't  and  give  the  cue. 

[He  goes. 
ROSENBAUM.  I'll  do  it  for  you,  Betty. 

[BETTY  starts  towards  the  right.    JERRY  meets  her. 
JERRY.  I'm  awfully  sorry,  Betty. 
BETTY.  [Stamping  her  foot]  You  didn't  even  try. 

[She  sits  in  the  chair  near  the  fireplace. 


170  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  m 

JERRY.  [Following  her.]  Well,  I  knew  the  words. 
[Betty  turns  her  back  to  him.  JERRY  leans  against 
the  proscenium  arch,  utterly  disconsolate.  The  com 
pany  and  stage  hands,  learning  that  ROSENBAUM  and 
MRS.  DEAN  are  going  to  rehearse  the  scene,  take 
points  of  vantage  to  see  them.  Miss  TOBY  and  Miss 
FARRINGTON  enter  at  the  right.  Miss  TOBY  sits  on 
the  table  below  the  door,  Miss  FARRINGTON  lean 
ing  against  it.  Miss  DONAHUE  sits  on  the  window- 
seat,  M'GiNNis,  HICKSON  and  STEVE  stand  at  the 
back  of  the  window.  EFFIE,  GOLDMAN  and  BIL 
LINGS  appear  in  the  door  at  the  left.  SMITH  re 
mains  seated  in  his  chair,  JOHNNY  at  the  desk. 
TOMPKINS  is  in  the  wings  at  the  left  waiting  for  his 
cue  to  enter  as  HENDERSON.  MRS.  DEAN  in 
JERRY'S  part  of  DICK,  climbs  on  the  window-seat, 
ROSENBAUM  in  BETTY'S  part  of  DORA,  gets  the 
bonds.  Both  of  them  are  very  serious  in  their  in 
tention  but  highly  ludicrous  in  the  result  as  they  are 
naturally  quite  unfitted  physically  for  the  hero  and 
the  heroine  of  "DORA'S  DILEMMA."  ROSENBAUM, 
forgetting  the  cigar  in  his  mouth,  imitates  BETTY'S 
stage  "business"  at  the  desk,  then  backs  up  towards 
the  rear  door.  He  opens  it.  The  necessary  "cue" 
of  a  closing  door  is  not  heard. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Irritably.']  Where's  that  door  slam? 
[ HICKSON  rushes  off  right.    MAGINNIS  rushes  off  left. 
Immediately  there  are  two  door  slams  heard  off  left 
followed  by  two  off  right. 

ROSENBAUM.  My  God!      Four  Hendersons! 

[He  staggers  down  to  the  table,  jails  into  the  chair, 
still  imitating  BETTY. 

TOMPKINS.  [Entering   the  rear  door,   sees   the   "situa 
tion."]    "Help!    Help!" 

[The  first  "Help"  is  given  loudly,  the  other  two  die 
away  as  TOMPKINS,  wishing  to  see  the  scene,  does 


ACT  m]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  171 

not  go  as  demanded  by  the  "business"  but  remains 
in  the  doorway. 

MRS.  DEAN.    [Rushing  down  from  the  window.]    "Dora! 
Dora!    What's  happened?" 

ROSENBAUM.  [Rising,  and  meeting  her  at  the  centre. ,] 
"Dick!    Dick!    Here  are  your  bonds!" 

MRS.  DEAN.    [Dramatically.]    "Dora!    Dora!    You  have 
saved  my  honour!" 

[MRS.  DEAN  clasps  ROSENBAUM  in  her  arms  fer 
vently,  crushing  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  forcing  it  to  an 
angle  of  45  degrees.  ROSENBAUM  blindly  tries  with 
his  left  hand  to  find  the  pocket  in  MRS.  DEAN'S 
clothes  in  order  to  imitate  BETTY'S  "business"  of 
placing  the  bonds  in  JERRY'S  overcoat.  The  com 
pany,  stifling  their  laughter,  fall  out  of  the  room. 
SMITH  is  almost  fainting  with  horror.  BETTY,  stuf 
fing  her  handkerchief  in  her  mouth,  rocks  with  mirth. 
JERRY  is  not  so  discreet,  for  shrieking  with  laugh 
ter,  he  advances  to  ROSENBAUM  and  MRS.  DEAN, 
who  at  the  sound  of  his  glee  have  started  apart. 
JERRY.  You  see,  you  forgot  the  overcoat  altogether — oh, 
I  beg  your  pardon,  but  you  were  so  funny. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Angrily.']  Funny  I    You  ought  to  see  your 
self! 

SMITH.  [Rushing   to   JERRY.]  Funny!      You   hold   my 
play  up  to  ridicule,  kill  it,  and  think  it's  funny! 

[lie  starts  to  the  door  at  the  left. 
ROSENBAUM.  Where  are  you  going? 
SMITH.  Home.     Will  you  do  me  one  favour? 
ROSENBAUM.  What? 
SMITH.  Take  my  name  off  the  programme. 

[He  goes,  slamming  the  door.  The  noise  of  the  row 
attracts  the  notice  of  the  company,  who  come  run 
ning  back  to  their  former  positions  in  time  to  hear 
SMITH'S  farewell  speech.  There  is  a  pause.  MRS. 
DEAN,  at  first  speechless  with  rage,  breaks  into  a 
fierce  tirade. 


172  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  m 

MRS.     DEAN.  [Indignantly.']  The    base    ingrate!       He 
ought  to  be  on  his  knees  to  me.    To  think  how  I've  worked 
on  his  piffling  play!     I  ask  you  all,  could  anybody  who 
heard  him  read  it,  recognise  it  now?     [Tearfully.]     If  it 
hadn't  been  for  me,  this  play  would  never  have  seen  New 
York.     Nobody  believes  in  it  but  me.     I've  worked  myself 
into  an  untimely  grave  to  give  you  all  a  season's  run,  and 
you're  all  against  me.     [Crying.]     You're  all  against  me, 
every  last  one  of  you!     I'm  just  one  lone  woman  against 
a  band  of  pessimistic  knockers.     I  can't  stand  any  more! 
[She  goes,  sobbing.     BETTY  rises  to  follow  her  but  is 
stopped  by  EFFIE,  who  runs  out  calling  "Matilda, 
Matilda."     The  company,  who  have  all  been  unani 
mous  in  their  dislike  of  MRS.  DEAN,  have  a  revulsion 
of  feeling  now  that  she  is  apparently  at  the  end  of 
her  endurance.     Talking  quietly  and  sympathetically 
everyone  disappears,  leaving  BETTY  almost  in  tears 
and  JERRY  remorseful. 

BETTY.  Poor  mother!     She's  utterly  worn  out! 
JERRY.  I  never  thought  she'd  take  it  so  much  to  heart. 
BETTY.  It  will  just  about  kill  her  if  it  doesn't  get  over! 
JERRY.  Oh  don't,  Betty,  you  make  me  feel  like  a  dog! 

[He  moves  away. 

BETTY.  [Following  him.]  Why,  Jerry,  you're  doing  the 
best  you  can.  It  isn't  your  fault!  I  thought  the  play 
was  awful  when  we  read  it,  and  when  it  didn't  go  on  the 
road,  I  begged  mother  not  to  let  Rosie  bring  it  in,  but  she's 
mad  about  it.  Of  course,  she  can't  see  any  further  than 
that  my  part  is  good.  Poor  mother! 

JERRY.  [Turning  to  her  and  taking  her  hands.]  Look 
here,  Betty,  if  you  ever  heard  that  I'd  done  something  that 
was — rotten — would  you  love  me  just  the  same? 

BETTY.  But  you  couldn't.  Besides,  I'd  love  you  what 
ever  you  did! 

JERRY.  You'll  remember  that,  won't  you?     Promise. 
BETTY.  Cross  my  heart!     [She  does  so.]     But  why  are 
you  so  serious? 


ACT  m]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  173 

JERRY.  Oh,  it's  nothing!     We'll  make  it  up  to  her. 

BETTY.  To  mother.     Make  up  what? 

JERRY.  We'll  be  mighty  kind  to  her  if  anything  happens 
to  disappoint  her,  won't  we? 

BETTY.  Why,  of  course!  But  you  are  always  kind  to 
her.  I'll  go  to  her  now. 

[She  kisses  him  and  starts  to  the  door. 

ROSENBAUM.   [Entering.']  Are  you  two  scrapping  now? 

BETTY.  No.     Jerry's  worried  for  fear  the  piece  may  fail. 

[She  goes. 

ROSENBAUM.  What?     Say,  what's  happened  to  you? 

JERRY.  Mrs.  Dean's  got  me  going,  that's  all.  I  almost 
wish  it  wasn't  going  to  fail! 

ROSENBAUM.  Well,  you'll  lose  your  wish. 

JERRY.  Looks  like  a  sure-fire  failure,  eh? 

ROSENBAUM.  [Smiling.']  I  made  arrangements  today  to 
invest  that  five  thousand  dollars. 

JERRY.  I  didn't  know.  You  seemed  so  interested  to 
night.  I  thought  perhaps  you  liked  it. 

ROSENBAUM.  I  can't  help  it.  I  seem  to  like  anything 
when  it  gets  as  far  as  the  dress  rehearsal. 

JERRY.  [Starting  to  follow  BETTY.]  Well,  I'm  going  to 
make  a  clean  breast  of  my  scheme  to  Betty. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Stopping  him.}  Don't  speak  to  her,  not 
before  we  open!  She'll  make  a  hit.  That's  all  her  mother 
wants.  She'll  blame  the  play.  And  just  think  of  the 
things  she'll  say  about  the  author! 

[MRS.  DEAN  returns,  wiping  her  eyes,  BETTY  and 
EFFIE  accompanying  her.  TOMPKINS  appears  at  the 
rear  door. 

BETTY.  Now,  mother,  what  do  you  want  us  to  do? 

MRS.  DEAN.  We'll  rehearse  the  curtain  calls  on  this  act. 

TOMPKINS.  Everybody  on  stage,  please.  First  call, 
everybody.  [MRS.  DEAN  goes  to  the  right  and  ROSENBAUM 
to  the  left.  BETTY  and  JERRY  take  their  positions  in  the 
exact  centre,  JERRY  to  the  right  of  her.  JOHNNY  enters  and 


174  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  m 

comes  to  the  left  of  BETTY.]    [Irritably.]    Miss  Donahue, 
you're  over  there. 

[He  pushes  her  into  place  next  to  JOHNNY,  shoves 
Miss  TOBY  next  to  her.  MRS.  DEAN  is  arranging 
the  other  end  of  the  line.  BILLINGS  gets  into  the 
wrong  place. 

MRS.  DEAN.    [Impatiently  to  BILLINGS.]    Haven't  you 
any  dramatic  instinct? 

[She  grabs  BILLINGS  and  puts  him  next  to  EFFIE, 
then  returns  to  the  extreme  right.  TOMPKINS  takes 
his  place.  The  line-up  for  the  "call"  from  left  to 
right  is  Miss  TOBY,  BILLINGS,  EFFIE,  JERRY,  BETTY, 
JOHNNY,  Miss  DONAHUE,  TOMPKINS  and  Miss 
FARRINGTON. 

TOMPKINS.  Curtain  up!      [He  gives  the  signal  for  the 
imaginary  curtain.    Everybody  bows  and  smiles.]      Cur 
tain  down!     [Everybody  looks  bored.     This  business  is  re 
peated  for  all  the  curtain  calls.]    Second  call — Principals. 
[All  run  off  excepting  JOHNNY,  EFFIE,  JERRY,  BETTY 
and  BILLINGS,  and  TOMPKINS,  who  joins  ROSEN- 
BAUM. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Mr.  Billings,  we  said — principals/ 
BILLINGS.  Quite  so. 
ROSENBAUM.  Get  off,  you're  a  "bit"! 

[BILLINGS  goes  grumbling. 

TOMPKINS.  Curtain  up!  [They  repeat  the  bowing  and 
smiling.]  Down!  Third  call.  Miss  Dean,  Mr.  Belden  and 
Brinkley.  [EFFIE  runs  off  quickly.]  Up!  [Business  as 
before.]  Down.  Fourth.  Miss  Dean  and  Belden  [JOHNNY 
goes.]  Up.  [The  same  business.]  Down. 
MRS.  DEAN.  [Proudly.]  And  now — Betty. 

[JERRY  runs  out  the  rear  door.  BETTY  goes  up  the 
centre  carrying  her  train.  She  starts  down  stage  to 
the  left,  dropping  her  train  carefully.  Then  BETTY 
stops  as  though  surprised  by  a  burst  of  applause. 
She  bows. 


ACT  m]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  175 

MRS.  DEAN.  Shrink,  darling,  shrink!  [BETTY  goes  up 
the  stage  shrinking.']  Hold  out  your  hand. 

[BETTY  holds  out  her  hand  as  though  desirous  of 

bringing  someone  io  share  her  triumph.    When  she 

gets  to  the  rear  door,  JERRY  jumps  on  and  takes  her 

outstretched  hand.    BETTY  is  annoyed. 

BETTY.  [Complainingly .~\  Mother! 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Furiously.']  Get  off!     Get  off!      [JERRY 

hurries  out.]      Now   darling,   if   those  ushers  earn   their 

money,  drag  on  the  company  one  by  one.    Save  Effie  until 

the  last.    I'll  show  you.    Oh  Effie!     [BETTY  moves  away 

and  watches  MRS.  DEAN,  who,  smiling  sweetly,  gambols 

across  to  the  door  at  the  right.    EFFIE  is  a  trifle  slow  in 

coming  on.    MRS.  DEAN  jerks  her  through  the  door.]    Oh, 

hurry  up!     [She  takes  EFFIE,  who  is  very  sulky,  to  the 

centre,  makes  a  deep  bow  to  her,  then  putting  her  arm 

around  EFFIE,  turns  to  BETTY.]     See,  dear,  this  is  always 

good  for  another  one. 

ROSENBAUM.  Smile,  Effie,  smile! 
EFFIE.  Do  I  have  to  rehearse  the  smile? 

[She  smiles  stagily,  looks  angrily  at  MRS.  DEAN,  then 

stalks  off. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Now,  darling,  look  for  the  author.  [She 
trips  around  from  left  to  right  looking  off  in  the  wings  for 
an  imaginary  author,  then  advancing  to  the  footlights, 
smiles  coyly  at  an  imaginary  audience.]  I  don't  know 
where  the  author  is.  [To  BETTY  in  a  business-like  tone.] 
Try  it,  darling. 

[BETTY  imitates  the  "business"  of  looking  for  the  au 
thor  and  in  doing  so  sees  ROSENBAUM. 
BETTY.  Do  I  look  for  Rosie,  too? 
MRS.  DEAN.  [Disgustedly.]  No.    He'll  be  out  in  front 
applauding.    And  now  the  speech. 

BETTY.    [BETTY,  advancing  to  the  centre,  smiles  very 
brightly.]     I  don't  know  where  the  author  is. 
MRS.  DEAN.  [Very  kittenishly .]  Be  coy,  Betty,  be  coy! 
BETTY.  [Imitating  her.]  I  don't  know  where  the  author 


176  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  m 

is.     I  can't  make  a  speech,  except  to  say  that  we're  all  very 
happy  and  we've  worked  very  hard 

ROSENBAUM.  Cut   that  out.     They  don't  give  a  damn 
how  hard  you've  worked. 

BETTY.  We're  all  very  happy.     [Very  brightly]   and  I 
thank  you. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Tearfully.]  Cry,  Betty,  cry. 

BETTY.  [Crying.]  I  thank  you.     I  thank  you. 

[She  backs  up  the  stage  bowing. 
The  curtain  is  lowered  to  indicate  a  lapse  of  time. 


SCENE  TWO:     The  First  Night 

After  the  curtain  jails  there  is  an  instant  of  time,  then 
ROSENBAUM  appears  in  the  left  upper  stage  box  of  the 
theatre.  He  looks  over  its  railing  at  the  audience, 
then  sits  with  his  back  to  the  stage  mentally  "counting 
the  house"  MRS.  DEAN,  following  him,  looks  over  the 
railing  at  the  audience  and  then  seats  herself  facing  the 
stage.  SMITH  comes  in  and,  sitting  between  them, 
nervously  crumples  a  programme.  ROSENBAUM  is  in 
a  dinner  jacket,  SMITH  in  evening  clothes,  MRS.  DEAN 
in  a  wrap  and  over  her  head  a  scarf  which  she  removes. 

The  idea  sought  to  be  conveyed  is  that  the  curtain  is  ris 
ing  on  the  final  scenes  in  the  third  act  during  the  first 
performance  of  "Dora's  Dilemma." 

The  curtain  rises  to  disclose  a  completely  furnished  stage 
setting  representing  the  library  in  the  ROBERT  CHAP 
MAN  home.  EFFIE,  as  MRS.  BENNETT,  is  seated  on 
the  couch.  BETTY,  as  DORA  CHAPMAN,  is  speaking 
to  her. 

DORA.  But,  Mrs.  Bennett,  has  the  firm  missed  the  bonds? 

MRS.  BENNETT.  Not  yet,  but  if  Dick  does  not  restore 
them  by  ten  o'clock  tomorrow  morning  their  loss  will  be 
discovered,  and  my  son  will  be  arrested  and  branded  as 
a  thief! 

DORA.  My  God!  But  why  did  Dick  give  those  securities 
to  my  husband? 

MRS.  BENNETT.  Mr.  Chapman  said  he  wanted  the  use  of 
ten  United  States  bonds  for  just  twelve  hours.  He  prom 
ised  faithfully  to  return  them  to  Dick  tonight.  He's  failed 
him  again.  Now  Dick  has  gone  home  hoping  to  find  them 
there. 

177 


178  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  m 

DORA.  How  did  you  learn  all  this? 

MRS.  BENNETT.  Dick's  been  anxious  all  the  evening. 
You  noticed  it.  I  saw  him  come  in  here,  followed  him  and 
found  him  ransacking  that  desk.  Then  I  made  him  tell  me. 

DORA.  But  why  should  Dick  run  this  risk? 

MRS.  BENNETT.  Because  of  you. 

DORA.  Because  of  me? 

MRS.  BENNETT.  Your  husband  threatened  him  I 

DORA.  What  about? 

MRS.  BENNETT.  A  divorce  suit,  naming  Dick  as  co-re 
spondent. 

DORA.  That's  absurd.     He  knows  it  isn't  true. 

MRS.  BENNETT.  The  coupling  of  your  names  would  be 
enough  to  ruin  you  both. 

DORA.  The  beast!  To  think  of  all  the  wrongs  and  humili 
ations  that  I  have  suffered  in  silence  and  then  to  threaten 
to  drag  me  down,  to  ruin  the  man  I  love!  Oh,  I'll  confess 
it.  I  do  love  your  son.  But  you  don't  believe  this  of  Dick 
and  me? 

MRS.  BENNETT.  [Taking  DORA'S  hands.]  No,  no,  I've 
suspected  that  my  son  loved  you,  and  that  you  loved  him. 
That's  why  I  waited  here  after  the  others  had  gone,  to 
implore  you  to  save  him. 

DORA.  I  will.  I  must!  I'll  find  some  way  to  get  those 
bonds. 

[Enter  quickly  JOHNNY,  as  CHAPMAN,  from  the  rear 
door.  He  wears  a  business  suit  and  carries  a  bag. 
He  stops  at  the  sight  of  the  women. 

CHAPMAN.  Oh,  good  evening.  [MRS.  BENNETT  rises.'] 
Oh,  don't  let  me  drive  you  away. 

[He  goes  down  to  the  desk  and  puts  the  bag  on  the 
end  of  it. 

DORA.  Mrs.  Bennett  was  about  to  leave.  Will  you  ring 
for  Henderson? 

[CHAPMAN  pushes  the  button  on  the  desk.  It  rings  off 
stage. 


ACT  m]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  179 

MRS.  BENNETT.  My  son  has  been  looking  for  you  all 
evening. 

CHAPMAN.  [Frightened.]  Is  he  here? 

MRS.  BENNETT.  No,  he's  gone  home. 

CHAPMAN.  [Relieved.]  Make  my  apologies.  Tell  him  I 
was  delayed  unexpectedly.  That  I'll  see  him  in  the  morn 
ing. 

MRS.  BENNETT.  [Eagerly.]  Early? 

CHAPMAN.  [Opening  the  bag.]  Nine  o'clock  at  my  office. 
[TOMPKINS  enters  as  HENDERSON. 
^ORA.  Henderson,  Mrs.  Bennett's  carriage. 
[MRS.  BENNETT  goes,  followed  by  DORA.     CHAPMAN 
crosses  to  the  window  where  he  stands  beside  the 
drawn  curtains  looking  out.    DORA  returns. 

CHAPMAN.  Dora,  Dora,  come  here  quickly.  [DORA 
crosses  in  front  of  CHAPMAN  to  the  window. ,]  Do  you  see 
anybody  out  there? 

DORA.  A  policeman! 

CHAPMAN.  Does  he  seem  to  be  watching  the  house? 

DORA.  No. 

CHAPMAN.  Anyone  else? 

DORA.  No. 

CHAPMAN.  Sure? 

DORA.  Yes. 

CHAPMAN.  [Going  to  the  desk  quickly.']  Dora,  you've 
got  to  help  me. 

DORA.  Help  you?     How? 

CHAPMAN.  Someone  I  can  trust  must  sail  on  the  Man- 
retania  tonight  with  this. 

[He  indicates  the  bag  on  the  desk. 

DORA.  What  have  you  done? 

CHAPMAN.  Unless  late  tonight  when  I  give  the  alarm 
with  this  [He  takes  a  revolver  out  of  his  pocket] ,  I  can 
be  found  here  chloroformed  [He  takes  a  bottle  out  of  hfa 
pocket  and  puts  it  on  the  desk],  the  safe  in  this  desk  opened, 
robbed,  they  can  send  me  up. 


180  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  in 

DORA.  Oh,  Bob!     Bob! 

CHAPMAN.  I  was  going  to  make  a  getaway,  but  I  can't. 
The  secret  service  men  are  watching  me.  Will  you  go? 

DORA.  I  can't.    I  can't! 

CHAPMAN.  You'll  be  all  right.  I'll  join  you  as  soon  as  I 
can.  There's  plenty  of  money  in  that  bag,  and  these  ten 
United  States  Bonds  are  as  good  as  cash.  Will  you  go 
through  with  this  for  me? 

[DORA  recognises  the  bonds  which  he  displays  to  her 
as  those  DICK  has  given  CHAPMAN. 

DORA.  Yes,  yes. 

CHAPMAN.  Good. 

DORA.  [Falling  into  the  chair  at  the  desk,  as  though 
fainting.]  Oh,  oh,  oh. 

CHAPMAN.  What  is  it? 

DORA.  I  feel  faint — the  shock — some  water — downstairs 
— the  dining  room.  [The  moment  CHAPMAN  goes  she  shows 
that  the  faint  was  pretended  and  stealthily  rising  gets  the 
telephoned]  Central,  central;  get  me  84  Bryant,  quickly, 
quickly.  [She  waits  anxiously.]  Hello,  84  Bryant?  Oh, 
is  that  you,  Dick.  Can  you  hear  me?  I've  got  your  bonds. 
Come  here  at  once,  come  through  the  garden  to  the  library 
window! 

[As  BETTY  is  replacing  the  receiver,  CHAPMAN  enters. 

CHAPMAN.  To  whom  were  you   telephoning? 

DORA.  [Frightened,  then  recovering.']  A  wrong  number  1 
[She  goes  slowly  up  to  the  window  to  open  it. 

CHAPMAN.  [Watching  her  suspiciously.}  What  are  you 
doing? 

DORA.  It's  so  close  in  here. 

[She  opens  the  window. 

CHAPMAN.  [Going  to  the  desk.]  Wrong  number,  eh? 
[DoRA  watches  him  anxiously.  He  picks  up  the  telephone.'] 
Central,  what  was  that  number  just  called  from  here?  [DoRA 
starts  from  the  window  to  him.]  84  Bryant!  [DoRA  gives 
faint  cry.]  Huh — I  thought  so.  [He  replaces  the  receiver.] 


ACT  m]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  181 

What  did  you  have  to  say  to  Bennett?     Come,  out  with 
it! 

DORA.  [Hesitatingly.]  Nothing.     I     simply     telephoned 
good-bye. 

CHAPMAN.  I  wonder  if  you're  putting  up  a  job  on  me? 
DORA.  Don't  be  absurd.     I  must  hurry.   [She  starts  to 
the  door.}     We've  no  time  to  lose. 

CHAPMAN.  You're  anxious  to  go,  aren't  you?     Maybe 
Bennett's  waiting  for  you?     Is  he? 
DORA.  Of  course  not. 

CHAPMAN.  What  did  his  mother  tell  you  tonight? 
DORA.  [Hesitatingly.}  What  could  there  be  to  tell? 

[She  comes  down  to  the  back  of  the  desk. 
CHAPMAN.  By    God,    that's    why    you    gave    in!     His 
mother  told  you  about  the  bonds.     You're  going  to  give 
them  to  him. 

[He  makes  a  rush  for  her. 

DORA.  [Picking  up  the  revolver  from  the  desk.}  Yes,  I 
am.     Give  them  to  me. 

[She  points  the  revolver  at  him  across  the  desk. 
CHAPMAN.  [Backing    away    a    step    or    two.}  What? 

You 

DORA.  I'm  not  afraid  of  you,  I  mean  this. 

[CHAPMAN  opens  the  bag  which  is  on  the  desk,  takes 
out  the  package  of  United  States  Bonds,  and  throws 
them  on  the  desk.     As  she  reaches  for  them  he 
jumps,  grabs  her  wrist,  gets  the  revolver,  then  takes 
the  bonds  forcibly  from  her,  and  puts  them  in  the 
bag.    DORA  sinks  on  the  chair  at  the  desk. 
CHAPMAN.  I  might  have  known  I  couldn't  trust  you, 
I'll  take  a  chance.     I'll  go  myself,   and  you'll  go  with 
me. 

DORA.  I  won't.    I  won't. 

CHAPMAN.  Oh  yes  you  will,  or  I'll  stay  here  and  when 

Dick    Bennett    comes    through    that    window [DORA 

gasps.}     Oh,  that's  why  you  opened  it!     I'll  shoot  him 
dead. 


182  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  in 

DORA.  You  wouldn't  dare. 

CHAPMAN.  Dare?  Invading  the  sanctity  of  my  home. 
It  mightn't  be  a  bad  idea  at  that.  Wonder  I  didn't  think  of 
it  instead  of  that  chloroform  stunt. 

[Sitting  in  the  chair  in  front  of  the  desk,  he  leans  over 
and  opens  the  saje,  and  begins  to  empty  it  of  its 
contents. 

I  could  plant  the  robbery  on  him.  How  would  you  like 
that  for  your  lover?  [He  laughs.]  You  thought  you  had 
me  beat!  Me!  That's  funny.  That's  damn  funny. 

[He  laughs,  leaning  back  in  his  chair.  At  the  mention 
of  the  word  l(chlorojorm"  DORA  takes  the  bottle  from 
the  desk  and  empties  it  on  her  handkerchief.  CHAP 
MAN  roars  with  laughter  and  says  "Damn  funny" 
DORA  thrusts  the  handkerchief  over  his  mouth,  grabs 
his  right  arm  and  brings  it  up  back  of  the  chair. 
CHAPMAN  struggles. 

DORA.  You'll  go?  You'll  stay  here  and  be  caught  like 
a  rat  in  a  trap.  You  can  disgrace  me,  shame  me,  but  you 
won't  make  the  man  I  love  a  thief!  I've  beaten  you,  do 
you  hear?  You  beast!  I've  beaten  you! 

[CHAPMAN'S  hand  falling  limply  on  the  desk  presses 
the  button.  The  bell  rings  off  stage.  BETTY 
alarmed,  listens,  then  dropping  the  handkerchief, 
she  gets  the  bonds  from  the  bag,  and  starts  to  leave 
when  a  door  is  heard  to  slam. 
DORA.  My  God!  Henderson! 

[She  looks  wildly  about,  holding  the  bonds  in  front  of 
her,  and  runs  down  to  the  chair  at  the  desk  and  falls 
forward  as  though  in  a  faint. 

HENDERSON.  [Entering,  sees  the  situation,  then  goes 
quickly,  calling.']  Help!  Help!  Help! 

[JERRY,  as  DICK,  rushes  in  through  the  window. 
DICK.  Dora,  Dora!  what's  happened! 
DORA.  O  Dick,  here  are  your  bonds. 
DICK.  O  Dora,  you  have  saved  my  honour. 
DORA.  He  was  going  to  run  away,  leave  the  country.    I 


ACT  m]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  183 

chloroformed  him.     [She  puts  the  bonds  in  his  overcoat 
pocket.']     Now,  go,  go. 

[A  police  whistle  sounds  faintly. 
DICK.  Leave  you?    No. 

DORA.  You  must.  There  are  the  police.  They'll  never 
suspect  me.  Oh  go,  for  God's  sake  go.  [She  pushes  him 
towards  the  window.  The  police  whistle  is  heard  nearer.'] 
No,  no,  get  behind  that  curtain. 

[She  pushes  DICK  behind  the  curtain  at  the  window 

and  starts  for  the  door. 

HENDERSON.    [Entering.']   Oh,  Ma'am,  are  you  all  right? 
DORA.  Oh  yes,  yes. 

[Enter  BILLINGS  as  a  Policeman. 
POLICEMAN.  What  is  it? 
DORA.  Help  me  out  of  here. 

[HENDERSON  leads  her  towards  the  door.    CHAPMAN 

has  been  coming  out  of  his  daze. 
CHAPMAN.  Stop  her.  She  robbed  me! 
POLICEMAN.  Wait! 

DORA.  He  doesn't  know  what  he's  saying.  I'm  his  wife. 

[She  tries  to  go. 

CHAPMAN.  [Rising.]  Stop  her.  Search  her.  She  chloro 
formed  me,  robbed  me.  [He  turns  toward  the  window  and 
sees  the  curtain  move.]  And  get  that  man  behind  the  cur 
tain. 

[DORA,  who  is  at  the  door,  turns  of  the  lights.    DICK 

rushes  out.    He  and  the  Policeman  struggle 
CHAPMAN.  Turn  on  those  lights. 

[When  the  lights  go  up  DICK  is  discovered  wearing 
the  overcoat  with  the  bonds  sticking  out  of  the 
pocket,  in  plain  view.    DORA  is  at  the  couch  looking 
wildly  for  the  overcoat. 
CHAPMAN.  Search  him! 

POLICEMAN.  Put  up  your  hands  I    Put  up  your  hands! 
[BILLINGS  sees  the  overcoat,  and  the  bonds.    He  is 
paralysed.    A  stage  wait  occurs. 


184  THE  SHOW  SHOP .  [ACT  m 

MRS.  DEAN.  [From  the  stage  box.]  Great  Heavens! 
He's  got  on  the  overcoat! 

SMITH.  [From  the  stage  box.]  I'll  kill  him! 
[BILLINGS,  JOHNNY,  TOMPKINS  and  BETTY  become 
panic-stricken,   losing    their   characterizations   com 
pletely.    JERRY  suddenly  realises  what  he  has  done 
but  is  unabashed. 

JERRY.  Come  on,  search  me.  [BILLINGS  looks  again  at 
JERRY,  then  at  JOHNNY.]  Come  on,  you  big  boob,  search 
me! 

[He   hesitates.    JERRY   jumps   for  him,   knocks   him 

down. 

BETTY.  [Wildly.']  What  will  I  do?    What  will  I  do? 
JERRY.  Do.    You'll  come  with  me! 

[He   dashes   at   JOHNNY   who  rushes   oft   below   the 
tormentor.    JERRY  then  jumps  on  the  desk,  and  leaps 
at  TOMPKINS,  who  dodges.     Then  he  grabs  BETTY 
who  has  fainted  and  jumps  out  of  the  window. 
ROSENBAUM.  [From  the  box.]  Ring  down,  Ring  down! 
TOMPKINS.  [Rushing  off  below  the  tormentor.]     Ring 
downl 

CURTAIN 


THE  FOURTH  ACT 

JERRY'S  apartment  in  a  Studio  building  in  New  York, — a 
simply  and  attractively  furnished  room  with  a  door 
at  the  left  to  the  bedroom  and  another  at  the  back  to 
the  hall.  There  is  a  fireplace  at  the  right  and  extend 
ing  from  it  into  the  room,  its  back  to  the  spectator  is 
a  large  couch  covered  with  corduroy.  Facing  it  is  a 
comfortable  wing  chair  and  a  table  with  a  reading 
light.  At  the  left  is  a  window  with  a  cushioned  seat 
and  in  front  of  it  a  handsome  table  with  writing  ma 
terials,  a  lamp,  a  rack  of  books  and  silver  boxes  con 
taining  cigarettes.  Behind  the  desk  is  a  chair,  in  front 
of  it  a  bench  with  a  cushion  of  corduroy.  Against  the 
back  wall  is  a  Jacobean  cabinet  and  a  table  with  a 
lamp.  Another  table  for  newspapers  and  magazines 
stands  at  the  left  end  of  the  couch.  There  are  framed 
photographs  on  the  walls,  the  mantel-piece,  the  tables 
and  the  desk,  all  of  BETTY  in  various  poses.  Bright 
sunlight  is  streaming  through  the  windows. 

WALTER,  JERRY'S  man-servant,  has  placed  the  morning 
papers  and  the  mail  on  the  desk  and  is  starting  for  the 
bedroom  carrying  the  coat  of  a  suit  when  the  door 
opens  and  JERRY  appears. 

JERRY.  Good  morning,  Walters.    What  time  is  it? 

WALTERS.  Eleven  o'clock.  {Offering  JERRY  his  coat.] 
Will  you  have  your  coat,  sir? 

JERRY.  Yes.  [Taking  off  his  lounging  jacket.']  Did  you 
get  all  the  morning  papers? 

WALTERS.  They're  on  the  table,  sir.  Mr.  Rosenbaum  has 
been  phoning.  He'll  be  over  later.  [He  takes  the  loung 
ing  jacket  and  starts  to  go.  At  the  door  to  the  bedroom  he 

185 


186  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  xv 

stops.]     Beg  pardon  for  mentioning  it,  sir,  but  I  hope 
"Dora's  Dilemma"  was  a  success  last  night. 
JERRY.  [Angrily.]  Don't  talk  about  it. 
WALTERS.  Oh  no,  sir.    Thank  you,  sir. 

[He  goes.  JERRY  takes  a  cigarette  from  a  box  on  the 
table,  and  is  getting  a  match,  when  there  comes  a 
knock  at  the  door. 

JERRY.  Come  in.  [JERRY  is  lighting  his  cigarette,  his  back 
to  the  door,  and  does  not  see  BETTY  entering,  carrying  a 
suit  case.  She  places  it  beside  the  door,  then  with  a  little 
sob  comes  towards  JERRY,  who,  hearing  the  sound,  turns 
and  goes  to  her  quickly.']  Betty!  Good  heavens,  Betty, 
what's  happened?  What  are  you  doing  here?  Where's 
your  mother? 

BETTY.  Oh,  stop  asking  me  questions  and  kiss  me. 

[JERRY  takes  her  in  his  arms  and  kisses  her. 
JERRY.  There!     Now  tell  me,  what's  happened? 
BETTY.  [Surprised.]  Haven't  you  read  the  papers? 
JERRY.  I  haven't  had  time. 

BETTY.  [Crying.]  Mother  will  never  let  us  get  married 
now. 

JERRY.  Why? 
BETTY.  The  play's  a  hit. 
JERRY.  [Staggered.]  What  I 
BETTY.  Look  at  the  papers! 

[She  gets  a  paper  from  a  table  at  the  end  of  the  couch 

and  hands  it  to  him. 

JERRY.  It  can't  be  true!  [Reading.]  "The  dramatic 
sensation  of  the  century." 

BETTY.  What  did  I  tell  you? 

[She  sits  on  the  couch,  her  back  to  the  spectators. 
JERRY.  It  can't  be  a  success!       Your  mother  had  hys 
terics  after  I  bawled  up  that  third  act  finish. 

[He  begins  to  read  the  review. 

BETTY.  [Crying.']  I  know.  She  scolded  me,  too.  I  went 
home  so  happy.  Then  this  morning  the  first  paper  I  looked 
at  said:  "Not  since  Maude  Adams  took  New  York  by  storm 


ACT  iv]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  187 

has  any  actress  won  such  instant  favour  as  Bettina  Dean." 
I'd  like  to  boil  that  man  in  oil. 

[She  cries  again. 

JERRY.  [Gloomily,  from  behind  the  newspaper.}  I  was 
a  hit  too. 

BETTY.  The  critics  must  be  crazy.    You  were  awful. 

JERRY.  But  you  saw  what  they  wrote  about  me. 

BETTY.  Yes,  one  of  them  said — "Where  has  Jerome 
Belden  been?  Why  have  we  been  deprived  of  him  all  these 
years?" 

JERRY.  Listen  to  this  son-of-a-gun — [Reading]  "Not  in 
the  memory  of  the  oldest  playgoer  has  the  New  York  stage 
given  to  us  so  charmingly  unconventional  an  actor  as 
Jerome  Belden.  Even  the  baldly  melodramatic  climax  of 
the  third  act  was  handled  by  Mr.  Belden  with  such  utter 
disregard  of  conventional  method  and  technique.  ..." 
What's  technique? 

BETTY.  Something  you  struggle  all  your  life  to  get,  that 
makes  the  public  tired  when  you  give  it  to  them.  Oh,  dear! 

[She  sobs. 

JERRY.  Don't,  Betty,  don't. 

[He  sits  on  the  couch  beside  her  his  back  to  the  audi 
ence  and  takes  her  in  his  arms. 

BETTY.  How  can  those  critics  be  so  kind  when  they  can 
be  so  mean? 

JERRY.  Oh,  maybe  this  is  just  newspaper  talk. 

BETTY.  [Releasing  herself.]  Oh,  I'm  afraid  they  liked  it. 
[They  turn,  their  arms  on  the  back  of  the  couch,  looking 
directly  at  the  spectators.]  I  saw  all  the  first-nighters  ap 
plauding. 

JERRY.  Yes;   the  whole  lodge  was  there. 

BETTY.  What  lodge? 

JERRY.  The  Ancient  Order  of  Grave  Diggers. 

BETTY.  They  gave  us  fifteen  curtain  calls. 

JERRY.  Oh,  that's  just  first-night  stuff. 

BETTY.  No,  if  those  Grave  Diggers  like  a  thing,  they  go 
out  and  rave  about  it. 


188  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  iv 

[She  cries.    JERRY  turns  and  takes  her  in  his  arms, 

both  again  with  their  backs  to  the  spectators. 
.  .JERRY.  Well,  maybe  it  won't  draw. 
BETTY.  Draw?     Mother  says  it  will  run  all  season. 
JERRY.  Some  plays  run  in  New  York  for  two  years. 
BETTY.  Don't,  Jerry,  don't. 

[She  sobs. 

JERRY.  Look  at  Monte  Cristo! 
BETTY.  [Sobbing  wildly.]  And  Rip  Van  Winkle! 
JERRY.  Oh,  who'd  pay  to  see  this  show? 
BETTY.  Go  call  up  the  box-office. 

[JERRY  rises  and  goes  to  the  telephone  on  the  table 

at  the  left  of  the  room.    BETTY  wipes  her  eyes. 
JERRY.  Never  thought  of  that.    What's  the  number? 
BETTY.  680  Bryant.    Mother  was  'phoning  this  morning. 

[She  rises  and  follows  JERRY. 
JERRY.  Give  me  680  Bryant. 

BETTY.  [Crying.]  I'm  the  most  miserable  woman  in  the 
world. 

JERRY.  Don't  take  it  so  much  to  heart. 
BETTY.  Mother  says  it's  absurd  to  talk  of  marriage  in 
the  face  of  this  success. 

JERRY.  What?     Busy?     Call  me. 

[He  places  the  telephone  on  the  table. 
BETTY.  [Despairingly.]  Surely  they  can't  be  telephoning 
for  seats  already? 

[She  sinks  on  the  bench  beside  the  table.    JERRY  gets 

a  chair  and  brings  it  towards  her. 
JERRY.  It's  a  judgment. 
BETTY.  What  do  you  mean? 
JERRY.  Betty,  I've  a  confession  to  make. 

[He  hangs  his  head  guiltily. 

BETTY.  [Alarmed.]  Jerry,  don't  tell  me  you've  learned  to 
like  the  stage. 

JERRY.  [Despairingly  sitting  in  the  chair.]  No,  worse 
than  that. 

BETTY.  Nothing  could  be  worse.    Go  on,  tell  me. 


ACT  iv]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  189 

JERRY.  [In  the  manner  of  a  stage  confession.]  You  re 
member  the  night  Rosie  made  the  proposition  to  star  you? 

BETTY.  Yes,  I'll  never  forget  it  or  forgive  him. 

JERRY.  Don't  say  that!     I  was  responsible. 

[In  deep  despair  he  bows  his  head  in  his  hands. 

BETTY.  What? 

JERRY.  Yes.    I  furnished  the  backing. 

BETTY.  To  make  me  a  star?    Why? 

JERRY.  [Seriously.']  Because  I  loved  you. 

BETTY.  [Indignantly.]  Well,  you  had  a  nice  way  of 
showing  it. 

JERRY.  Your  mother  had  said  it  would  be  death  to  your 
career  to  be  associated  with  a  failure — well,  I  made  up  my 
mind  you'd  fail. 

BETTY.  You  darling. 

JERRY.  Rosie  had  a  lot  of  plays  in  his  grip.  I  hadn't 
read  any  of  them.  I  just  picked  this  one  out  blindly,  think 
ing,  of  course,  that  I'd  pick  a  failure. 

BETTY.  Oh,  Jerry,  why  didn't  you  leave  the  choice  to 
Rosie? 

JERRY.  Why? 

BETTY.  It  takes  someone  who  knows  about  plays  to  pick 
a  failure. 

[The  telephone  bell  rings  sharply. 

JERRY.  [Rushing  to  the  telephone.]  Hello,  680  Bryant? 
I  want  a  couple  of  seats  for  tonight.  What?  One  in  the 
fifteenth  row.  Four  weeks  from  Monday!  Oh,  this  is 
awful!  [BETTY  sobs  aloud.]  I'll  never  be  able  to  live  this 
down.  I'll  never  dare  to  show  my  face  at  the  Club  again. 

BETTY.  And  I'll  never  be  Mrs.  Jerome  Belden  now. 
[JERRY  in  his  irritation  is  walking  up  and  down;  he 
stumbles  over  BETTY'S  suit   case,  and  gives  it  a 
vicious  kick. 

JERRY.  What  the  devil's  that? 

BETTY.  [Sniffling.]  That's  mine. 

JERRY.  Oh,  excuse  me.    [He  picks  up  the  suit  case,  puts 


190  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  iv 

it  tenderly  and  puts  it  on  the  chair  beside  the  bench.] 
Yours?    Where  are  you  going? 

BETTY.  Nowhere.     I've  come  to  stay. 

JERRY.  Here? 

BETTY.  Yes. 

JERRY.  You  can't  do  that.  I'd  forgotten.  You  oughtn't 
to  be  here  now.  How  did  you  get  up  here? 

BETTY.  I  gave  the  elevator  boy  five  dollars. 

JERRY.  [Growing  agitated.]  Good  Lord,  did  anyone 
downstairs  see  you? 

BETTY.  Yes,  a  lot  of  hall  boys. 

JERRY.  I'll  fix  them.     They  didn't  recognise  you? 

BETTY.  I  didn't  wear  a  veil  on  purpose. 

JERRY.  [Very  agitatedly.]  Come,  Betty,  you  must  get  out 
of  here.  Your  mother  might  miss  you,  begin  to  look  for 
you. 

BETTY.  She  knows  I'm  here. 

JERRY.  What?    Did  you  tell  her? 

BETTY.  No,  she  went  out  early  this  morning,  but  I  left 
a  note. 

[JERRY  frantic,  takes  BETTY'S  hands  and  tries  to  draw 
her  to  her  feet. 

JERRY.  Then  come  on;  if  she  finds  you  here,  it  will  be 
terrible. 

BETTY.  [Impatiently,  pulling  her  hands  away.]  I  want 
her  to  find  me  here. 

JERRY.  She  mustn't,  Betty.  Oh,  I  can't  put  it  into  words, 
but  it's  impossible.  This  is  a  bachelor  apartment.  Don't 
you  appreciate  the  situation? 

BETTY.  Perfectly,  I'm  trying  to  be  compromised.  This 
is  our  only  chance. 

JERRY.  Have  you  gone  insane?  I  must  take  her  to  an 
alienist. 

BETTY.  [Indignantly.]  If  you  loved  me,  you'd  take  me 
to  a  minister. 

JERRY.  I  will,  Betty,  I  will,  after  we  see  your  mother. 
We  played  the  game  squarely,  we  won't  sneak  now. 


ACT  iv]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  191 

BETTY.  [Crying.]  You  don't  love  me  any  more. 

JERRY.  [Taking  her  in  his  arms.']  I  do,  Betty,  I  do.  I 
love  you  too  much  to  let  you  marry  me  on  the  sly.  Now, 
come  on,  dry  your  eyes,  powder  your  nose,  I'll  order  the 
car,  we  will  drive  to  the  Claremont,  have  some  luncheon, 
then  fortified,  we'll  call  on  mother,  and  read  the  riot  act. 
[The  telephone  rings.]  Hello,  Mrs.  Dean  calling?  Tell  her 
I'm  not  in. 

BETTY.  [Running  to  him.]  No — no.  [She  speaks  into 
the  telephone.]  Ask  her  to  come  right  up.  [JERRY  tries 
to  talk  into  the  telephone.  BETTY  puts  her  hand  across  the 
mouthpiece.]  Say  one  word  and  I'll  never  speak  to  you 
again. 

JERRY.  This  is  going  to  take  some  explaining. 

BETTY.  Leave  it  to  me. 

JERRY.  Your  mother  has  every  right  to  be  furious.  Every 
right  to  suspect  me.  Every  right  to  prevent  our  marriage 
now. 

BETTY.  Just  let  her  try  it.  [There  is  a  knock  at  the 
door.]  Quick,  Jerry.  [She  grabs  him,  throws  herself  into 
his  arms,  puts  his  arms  around  her.  JERRY  struggles.  BETTY 
holds  his  kinds  firmly.]  Come  in! 

[MRS.  DEAN  comes  in,  smilingly,  arrayed  in  a  gor 
geous  gown,  a  fur  trimmed  wrap  of  brocade,  and  a 
bejeathered  picture  hat. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Good  morning,  children.  Gaze  on  your 
mother— "Success,"  Herald. 

[She  sweeps  across  in  front  of  them  to  display  her 
clothes. 

BETTY.  Mother,  don't  you  see  us? 

MRS.  DEAN.  There's  nothing  the  matter  with  my  eye 
sight. 

BETTY.  Mother,  don't  you  see  us?    I'm  compromised. 

JERRY.  No — no! 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Graciously.]  Bless  my  little  girl.  Your 
mother's  here.  I  came  as  soon  as  I  found  the  note.  [She 
strokes  the  fur  on  the  sleeve  of  her  wrap.]  Isn't  it  a  lovely 


192  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  iv 

piece  of  fur»?  They  say  it's  sable,  but  I  believe  if  you 
stroked  it  the  wrong  way,  it'd  put  up  its  back  and  spit  at 
you. 

BETTY.  Mother,  will  you  pay  attention  to  us? 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Parading  across  the  room.]  My  dear, 
don't  be  selfish.  Let  me  enjoy  my  glad  raiment.  After  I 
read  the  papers  and  'phoned  to  the  box-office,  I  said, 
"Matilda,  go  out  and  squander." 

JERRY.  The  hit's  gone  to  her  head. 

[He  sits  on  the  bench. 

MRS.  DEAN.  I  went  straight  to  the  dressmaker's.  He 
says,  I'm  a  perfect  40,  the  rascal.  [She  giggles.]  Betty. 
[BETTY  goes  to  MRS.  DEAN,  who  takes  her  aside  and  whis 
pers.]  Everything  underneath  this  is  embroidered  crepe,  and 
I  wish  you  could  see  the  lilies  of  the  valley  on  my  corsets ! 

BETTY.  You  look  lovely.  You  know  how  glad  I  am  that 
at  last  I  see*  you  looking — 

MRS.  DEAN.  Rich  and  recherche. 

BETTY.  But  it  would  have  been  more  profitable  and  more 
to  the  point  if  instead  of  visiting  the  dressmaker's  you  had 
spent  the  time  at  the  dramatic  agencies. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Majestically.]  My  day  for  bending  the 
knee  to  the  dramatic  agents  is  over.  In  future,  they'll 
salaam  to  the  mother  of  Bettina  Dean.  [BETTY,  shaking 
her  head  hopelessly,  joins  JERRY  on  the  bench.]  I  don't 
mind  telling  you  two  in  strictest  confidence  that  I'm  going 
to  be  a  power  in  this  business.  You  saw  what  the  news 
papers  said  about  my  prediction  of  this  play.  I've  always 
thought  I  could  do  a  few  things  to  Ibsen. 

BETTY.  [To  JERRY.]  Oh,  it's  hopeless! 

[MRS.  DEAN  pays  no  attention  to  him.  She  takes  off 
her  wrap  and  throws  it  over  the  couch  on  which  she 
poses,  then  smiles  in  a  stagey  way  at  JERRY. 

JERRY.  [Coming  to  her.]  Mrs.  Dean,  this  is  serious. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Contentedly.]   What's  "serious"? 

JERRY.  On  Saturday  night  Betty  and  I  say  a  fond  fare 
well  to  Dora  and  her  Dilemma. 


ACT  iv]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  193 

MRS.  DEAN.  What?    Are  you  going  mad? 
BETTY.  Yes,  if  being  married  is  going  mad. 

[She  rises  and  goes  to  JERRY. 
MRS.  DEAN.  Married?     Utterly  impossible. 

[BETTY  starts  to  talk;  JERRY  quiets  her. 
JERRY.  Let  me  talk,  Betty.  [BETTY  retires  and  sits  on 
the  bench  by  the  table.]  Now,  Mrs.  Dean,  you've  kept  us 
apart  on  the  plea  that  you  wanted  to  see  Betty  on  Broad 
way.  You  can  take  a  long  lingering  look  at  her  for  five 
more  nights,  and,  of  course,  the  usual  matinees. 

[He  sits  on  the  bench  beside  BETTY. 
MRS.  DEAN.  [Rising.']  What  do  you  mean? 
JERRY.  Sunday  we're  married! 
BETTY.  No.  today;  I'll  take  no  more  chances. 
JERRY.  Suits  me,  darling.    Then  on  Sunday  we  start  on 
a  still  hunt  for  that  farm  with  the  chickens  and  the  little 
calf. 

MRS.  DEAN.  I  won't  permit  it. 

JERRY.  Then  I'm  afraid  we  won't  wait  for  the  permit. 
[ROSENBAUM  bursts  in.    He,  like  MRS.  DEAN,  exudes 
prosperity  in  every  line  of  the  palpably  new  morning 
coatf    silk    hat,    boutonniere    and   gloves.      He   is 
beaming. 

ROSENBAUM.  Well,  we  put  it  over.  Didn't  I  always  say 
it  was  a  great  play? 

MRS.  DEAN.  Oh,  Mr.  Rosenbaum,  I'm  so  glad  you've 
come. 

ROSENBAUM.  I'd  have  been  here  before,  but  I  was  look 
ing  over  the  plans  for  the  Rosenbaum  Theatre. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Talk  to  these  children.  I  can't  do  anything 
with  them.  They're  impossible. 

[She  sits  on  the  couch. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Going  to  her.]  You've  got  to  make  allow 
ances  after  the  hit  they  made  last  night.  It's  the  artistic 
temperament.  \ 

MRS.  DEAN.  It's  rank  nonsense. 
ROSENBAUM.  It's  the  same  thing.     [He  goes  to  JERRY 


194  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  iv 

and  sits  on  the  chair  beside  the  bench.}  Jerry,  didn't  I  always 
say  it  took  just  one  fat  part  to  make  a  Broadway  star? 
Find  out  what  they  like  in  your  personality  and  hand  it  to 
them.  When  you  get  old  you  keep  on  handing  it  to  them 
and  they  think  it's  character  acting. 

MRS.  DEAN.  We've  no  time  to  listen  to  your  theories  of 
acting,  even  if  you  had  any.  They  threaten  to  stop  acting 
altogether  on  Saturday  night. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Rising.]  What? 

JERRY.  That's  right. 

[He  rises  and  goes  to  ROSENBAUM. 

ROSENBAUM.  Never. 

JERRY.  [Threateningly.]  Who's  going  to  make  me  act? 

MRS.  DEAN.  Nobody  can  do  that,  the  critics  notwith 
standing. 

ROSENBAUM.  You  don't  dare  quit. 

JERRY.  Don't  I?    You  forget  I  own  this  show. 

MRS.  DEAN.  What?    You? 

[She  rises. 

JERRY.  Yes.    I  put  up  the  money  for  "Dora's  Dilemma." 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Indignantly.]  Why  wasn't  I  told? 

[She  glares  at  ROSENBAUM,  who  sneaks  away. 

JERRY.  Because  I  didn't  want  you  to  feel  under  obliga 
tions  to  me. 

MRS.  DEAN.  Obligations?  To  furnish  a  few  paltry  thou 
sands  to  put  my  daughter  where  she  belongs?  It  was  a 
privilege.  Nevertheless,  it  was  very  generous  of  you.  Betty, 
why  don't  you  thank  this  noble-hearted  man  for  all  he 
has  done  for  you? 

BETTY.  Thank  him! 

ROSENBAUM.  [Going  to  MRS.  DEAN.]  Listen  to  her, 
she's  as  bad  as  Belden.  But  why  expect  gratitude  from 
actors? 

JERRY.  Gratitude  to  you?  [He  goes  to  him  furiously.] 
A.  fat  lot  you've  done  for  us.  Where's  that  failure  you  guar 
anteed  me? 


ACT  iv]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  195 

ROSENBAUM.  [Handing  him  a  check.]  Here's  your  $5,000. 
I  don't  need  it. 

MRS.  DEAN.  What's  this  I  hear  about  failure? 

[ ROSENBAUM  moves  away  again, 

JERRY.  He  promised  me  that  it  would  fail.  I  relied  on 
him. 

MRS.  DEAN.  So,  young  man,  you  were  going  to  put  one 
over  on  mother? 

JERRY.  You've  put  it  all  over  us.  Let  that  satisfy  you. 
But  don't  waste  your  time  gloating.  You'd  better  bend  all 
your  energies  to  finding  two  people  to  play  our  parts,  and 
finding  them  quickly. 

[He  picks  up  BETTY'S  suit  case.  BETTY  joins  him, 
and  they  start  toward  the  door.  MRS.  DEAN  rushes 
to  intercept  them. 

MRS.  DEAN.  You  children  don't  realise  what  you're  doing. 
You  can't  leave  this  cast.  You're  both  necessary  to  the 
success  of  the  play. 

ROSENBAUM.  You  leave  it  and  it  won't  draw  a  cent. 

JERRY.  We  don't  need  the  money. 

ROSENBAUM.  What  about  me? 

JERRY.  Oh,  you ! 

MRS.  DEAN.  What  about  the  others?  You  can't  stop  the 
run  of  this  play,  throw  all  these  people  out  of  employment. 
Think  of  Effie  and  Johnnie.  Would  you  take  away  their 
livelihood?  Drive  them  back  to  a  life  of  care  and  worry? 
You  can't  do  that  unless  you're  both  marked  with  a  wide 
streak  of  yellow. 

BETTY.  Jerry,  I  suppose  we  must  think  of  the  others. 
[JERRY  throws  down  the  suit  case  in  disgust.    There  is 
a  slight  pause,  then  he  advances  on  ROSENBAUM  in 
a  fury. 

JERRY.  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  if  this  was  a  success  I 
could  not  get  out  of  it  without  hurting  other  people?  You 
promised  me  faithfully  that  my  acting  would  kill  it.  Why 
didn't  you  warn  me  that  I  was  in  danger  of  making  a  hit? 


196  THE  SHOW  SHOP  [ACT  iv 

ROSENBAUM.  Oh,  how  did  I  know  you  had  what  gets 
across,  whatever  the  damn  thing  is. 

JERRY.  [Going  to  MRS.  DEAN.] If  I  stick  to  this  thing 

[BETTY  protests.]  I  don't  say  I  will.  I'll  do  it  on  one  con 
dition,  Mrs.  Dean,  that  you  withdraw  your  opposition  to  my 
marriage  with  Betty. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Going  to  JERRY.]  You  marry  Betty  over 
my  dead  body. 

JERRY.  [Shaking  his  fist  in  ROSENBAUM'S  face.]  Oh,  I'd 
go  to  the  chair  for  you. 

[He  goes  and  sits  on  the  table,  his  back  to  them. 

BETTY.  I'll  play  Dora  and  her  old  Dilemma  with  a  wed 
ding  ring  or  not  at  all. 

[She  joins  JERRY  and  sits  with  her  back  to  them. 

ROSENBAUM.  Mrs.  Dean,  are  you  going  to  stand  there 
and  see  them  ruin  me? 

MRS.  DEAN.  Ruin  us? 

ROSENBAUM.  Who's  going  to  pay  $2  to  see  a  man  make 
love  to  his  own  wife?  [He  runs  across.]  Oh,  Betty,  be  rea 
sonable.  I'll  make  a  great  actress  of  you. 

MRS.  DEAN.  I've  done  that  already,  Mr.  Rosenbaum. 

ROSENBAUM.  Oh,  Betty,  don't  do  this!  Stick  to  me!  To 
show  you  the  kind  of  fellow  I  am,  I'll  let  you  both  do 
Shakespeare. 

JERRY.  [Furiously,  jumping  off  table  and  going  to  ROSEN 
BAUM.]  Shakespeare!  You've  done  enough  for  me.  Don't 
you  think  you  can  put  me  in  tights. 

BETTY.  I  have  an  idea.  Why  couldn't  we  be  married 
quietly? 

ROSENBAUM.  [Scornfully.]  Quietly?  What  can  you  do  in 
New  York  quietly? 

BETTY.  No  one  need  know. 

ROSENBAUM.  The  reporters  would  get  it  in  a  minute. 
There's  a  bunch  of  them  downstairs  now. 

JERRY.  Why? 

ROSENBAUM.  I  brought  them  around  to  interview  you. 

JERRY.  [Going  quickly  to  the  telephone  at  the  end  of  the 


ACT  iv]  THE  SHOW  SHOP  197 

desk.]  Hello,  is  this  the  office?  Send  those  reporters  up  to 
Mr.  Belden's  room  at  once.  Yes,  at  once.  [BETTY  looks  at 
JERRY  bewildered,  ROSIE  and  MRS.  DEAN,  horrified.  JERRY 
goes  over  to  them.]  Now  you  listen  to  me.  I'm  willing  to 
think  of  you  and  Erne  and  Johnnie  and  the  others.  I'm 
willing  to  go  on  acting  and  acting  and  acting,  to  serve  my 
sentence,  so  that  you  can  go  on  producing  and  producing 
and  producing.  You  can  do  your  Shakespeare  and  you  can 
do  your  Ibsen  provided  we  can  get  married.  Oh  quietly — 
I'll  keep  the  marriage  a  secret.  Either  you  do  this  or  I'll 
give  that  bunch  of  reporters  a  story  of  our  engagement  that 
will  spread  over  the  front  page  of  every  paper  in  this  town. 
Now,  it's  up  to  you.  [There  is  a  knock  at  the  door.  He 
lowers  his  voice.']  There  they  are.  Now  think  and  think 
fast. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Whispering.]  What  will  we  do? 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Whispering.]  What  can  we  do? 

JERRY.  [Whispering.]  Come  with  us. 

MRS.  DEAN.  [Whispering.]  Where? 

JERRY.  [Whispering.]  To  the  Little  Church  Around  the 
Corner. 

ROSENBAUM.  [Getting  MRS.  DEAN'S  coat  from  the 
couch,  gives  it  to  her,  whispering.]  For  God's  sake  go,  but 
go  quietly. 

JERRY.  [Reaching  out  his  hand  to  MRS.  DEAN.]  Come, 
mother. 

[BETTY,  MRS.  DEAN  and  JERRY  start  to  the  door  at 
the  left,  walking  on  tiptoes.  ROSENBAUM  tiptoes  to 
the  other  door.  The  knocking  becomes  louder.  He 
motions  to  them  to  hurry  and  they  go  smilingly  as 
he  is  about  to  admit  the  reporters. 

THE  END 


THE    FAMOUS    MRS.  FAIR 

A  PLAY  IN  FOUR  ACTS 


THE  PERSONS  OF  THE  PLAY 

JEFFREY  FAIR 

NANCY  FAIR 

ALAN  FAIR 

SYLVIA  FAIR 

PEGGY  GIBBS 

ANGELICA  BRICE 

E.  DUDLEY  GILLETTE 

NORA 

MRS.  GILBERT  WELLS 

MRS.  LESLIE  CONVERSE 

MRS.  KELLETT  BROWN 

MRS.  NORMAN  WYNNE 

MRS.  STUART  PERRIN 

The  Scenes  of  the  First  and  Second  Acts  are  laid  at  the 
home  of  JEFFREY  FAIR  on  Long  Island,  in  the  months  of 
May  and  June;  the  occurrences  of  the  succeeding  acts  take 
place  in  his  apartments  in  a  New  York  hotel  during  an  eve 
ning  in  October. 


THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR 

Original  cast,  as  first  presented  at  the  Henry  Miller  Theatre, 
New  York,  December  22,  1919 

It  is  arranged  in  the  order  in  which  they  first  appear. 

SYLVIA  FAIR Margalo  Gillmore 

ALAN  FAIR Jack  Devereaux 

NORA Betty  Hall 

E.  DUDLEY  GILLETTE  .     .    .  Robert  Strange 

ANGELICA  BRICE    ....  Virginia  Hammond 

NANCY  FAIR BLANCHE  BATES 

JEFFREY  FAIR HENRY  MILLER 

MRS.  NORMAN  WYNNE    .     .  Dallas  Tyler 

MRS.  KELLETT  BROWN  .    .  Marian  Lord 

MRS.  STUART  PERRIN  .     .     .  Maude  Allan 

MRS.  LESLIE  CONVERSE  .     .  Alice  Baxter 

MRS.  GILBERT  WELLS      .     .  Florence  Williams 

PEGGY  GIBBS Kathleen  Conegys 


THE   FAMOUS   MRS.  FAIR 

THE  FIRST  ACT 

The  living-room  of  JEFFREY  FAIR'S  home  on  Long  Island. 
The  watts  are  panelled  and  painted  in  soft  tones;  at  the 
left  is  a  fireplace,  at  the  right  a  door  into  a  hall  and  at 
the  back  three  French  windows  opening  onto  a  terrace 
beyond  which  is  a  vista  of  wooded  hills.  The  room  is 
charmingly  and  luxuriously  furnished,  everything  de 
noting  wealth  and  refinement.  A  large  table  with  a 
lamp,  writing  materials,  photographs,  books  and  bowls 
of  flowers  is  at  the  right.  Behind  it  is  a  chair  and  in 
front  of  it  a  couch.  Between  the  windows  are  con 
soles  and,  on  either  side  of  them,  small  chairs.  In  the 
corner  of  the  room  is  a  lacquer  cabinet.  There  are  two 
large  wing  chairs,  one  in  front  of  the  fireplace,  the 
other  against  the  left  wall  below  the  fireplace.  Bowls 
and  vases  of  flowers  are  in  every  available  place,  giv 
ing  a  festive  aspect  to  the  room.  Above  the  centre 
tyrindow  is  a  floral  piece  fashioned  of  laurel  and  red, 
white  and  blue  flowers,  in  the  centre  the  words  "Wel 
come  Home  Our  Heroine,"  at  the  base  red,  white  and 
blue  ribbons  fastened  with  a  cockade  and  projecting 
from  its  upper  corners  are  miniature  flags  of  the 
United  States,  Great  Britain  and  France. 

SYLVIA  FAIR  is  coming  from  the  garden  through  the  sun 
shine  of  a  May  morning.  In  a  simple  gingham  dress 
with  her  hair  hanging  in  a  golden  cloud  about  her 
shoulders,  her  arms  filled  with  lilacs,  she  is  a  radiant 
picture  of  sweet,  unspoiled  girlhood,  not  at  all  the  usual 
modern  miss  of  eighteen.  She  runs  up  the  steps  and 
into  the  room  where  she  flits  about  arranging  the 
flowers,  humming  the  air  of  a  gay  little  song.  Hey 
zow 


204  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  i 

task  completed,  she  stands  looking  at  the  result  with 
joyful  satisfaction  when  the  voice  of  ALAN  FAIR  is 
heard  outside  in  the  hall. 

ALAN.  [Calling.']  Oh,  Sylvia  I 

SYLVIA.  Yes,  Alan. 

[ALAN  FAIR,  a  fine  example  of  American  youth,  comes 
in  hurriedly. 

ALAN.  Hello,  Sis. 

SYLVIA.  Hello,  Alan! 

ALAN.  Mother  not  here  yet? 

SYLVIA.  No.  But  she  will  be  any  moment.  The  boat 
docked  an  hour  ago. 

ALAN.  Did  you  get  in  touch  with  Dad? 

SYLVIA.  Yes.  Last  night  as  soon  as  I  received  the  wire 
less. 

ALAN.  Why  didn't  you  meet  mother? 

SYLVIA.  They  won't  let  you  on  the  pier  without  an  alibi 
or  something. 

ALAN.  Hello!    Give  me  John  6780! 

SYLVIA.  What  are  you  going  to  do? 

ALAN.  'Phone  Peggy.  I  motored  her  in  this  morning. 
Tire  went  bad.  She  was  afraid  I  wouldn't  be  here  in 
time! 

SYLVIA.  I  wonder  why  mother  didn't  cable  that  she  had 
changed  from  the  French  Line  to  the  Olympic? 

ALAN.  Oh,  hello!  Is  this  6780  John?  I'd  like  to  speak 
to  Miss  Gibbs.  [To  SYLVIA.]  Say,  but  you're  going  to 
be  a  big  surprise  to  mother. 

SYLVIA.  Yes.  Two  years  makes  a  lot  of  difference  in  a 
woman. 

ALAN.  You!     You're  only  a  kid. 

SYLVIA.  Why,  I'm  eighteen. 

ALAN.  Oh,  hello!  Is  that  you,  Peggy?  Yes,  I  got  here 
in  time.  Boat's  docked. 

SYLVIA.  Give  Peggy  my  love. 

ALAN.  Sylvia  says   to  give  you  her  love!     That  goes 


ACT  i]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  205 

double  for  me.    Oh,  that's  all  right.    I'm  going  to  tell 

Sylvia.   No,  I  won't  say  a  word  to  anyone  else.   I  promise. 

[SYLVIA,    astonished,    goes    to    ALAN    and    suddenly 

reaches  over,  turns  the  transmitter  towards  herself 

and  talks  into  it. 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  Peggy,  I've  been  hoping  you  were  going  to 
be  my  sister-in-law. 

ALAN.  [Greatly  surprised.]  Why,  how  did  you  know? 
SYLVIA.  [Taking  the  telephone  from  ALAN.]  Peggy,  Alan 
wants  to  know  how  I  knew.  Isn't  that  funny?  When  did 
you  say  "yes"?  Last  night?  [ALAN  is  impatiently  trying 
to  take  the  telephone  from  SYLVIA.]  I'm  so  glad.  Yes, 
I'm  awfully  excited.  I  can  hardly  wait  until  mother  gets 
here. 

ALAN.  [Grabbing  the  telephone.']  Good-bye,  darling! 
Don't  get  so  fresh!  What  number  do  I  want?  You've  cut 
me  off. 

[ALAN  irritably  moves  receiver  hook  up  and  down. 
SYLVIA  laughing,  takes  the  telephone  from  ALAN 
and  puts  it  on  the  table.  ALAN  goes  sulkily  to  the 
armchair. 

ALAN.  How  did  you  know  I  was  in  love  with  Peggy? 
SYLVIA.  [Coming  to  him.]  Oh,  you  weren't  running  up 
to  Connecticut  every  other  minute  since  you've  been  de 
mobilised  to  see  your  "buddy,"  even  if  he  is  as  nice  a  one 
as  Tom  Gibbs.  Why,  the  very  first  time  I  met  Peggy,  I 
knew. 

ALAN.  I  didn't  know  it  myself  then. 

[He  shs. 

SYLVIA.  [Leaning  over  the  back  of  the  chair."]  Are  you 
going  to  tell  mother  and  daddy? 
ALAN.  Not  right  away. 

SYLVIA.  Afraid  they  won't  like  your  marrying  beneath 
you? 

ALAN.  Where  do  you  get  that  stuff? 
SYLVIA.  Peggy  is  a  stenographer,  and  you  are  the  son  of 
Jeffrey  Fair. 


206  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  i 

ALAN.  Yes,  and  Peggy's  been  self-supporting  and,  except 
what  Uncle  Sam  paid  me,  I've  never  earned  a  nickel.  Mar 
rying  beneath  me!  I'm  marrying  above  me. 

SYLVIA.  [Sitting  on  the  arm  of  the  chair.']  I  hope  they 
think  so.  Of  course,  mother's  been  helping  for  four  years 
to  save  the  world  for  Democracy.  I  suppose  that's  made 
her  democratic,  and  daddy  has  no  use  for  his  ancestors. 
Still  it's  going  to  be  an  awful  shock  to  everyone  here. 

ALAN.  I  should  worry  about  shocking  the  neighbours. 

SYLVIA.  Then  why  keep  it  a  secret? 

ALAN.  Peggy  thinks  it  might  spoil  the  family  reunion 
for  mother  if  I — well,  spring  a  new  member  on  her. 

SYLVIA.  That's  very  thoughtful,  very  sweet  of  Peggy. 

ALAN.  Everything  about  her  is  sweet.  I'm  crazy  about 
the  whole  family.  They  have  the  homiest  kind  of  a  home. 
You  know,  at  night  Mrs.  Gibbs  sewing  and  Mr.  Gibbs  read 
ing  his  paper  and  a  bowl  of  apples  on  the  table. 

SYLVIA.  Of  course,  an  apple  at  night  would  give  me  the 
pip  but  it  must  be  lovely. 

ALAN.  It  would  be  great  if  you  liked  Tom. 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  Alan,  I  don't  believe  I  could  marry  a  po 
liceman. 

ALAN.  He's  not  a  policeman.  He's  a  detective  and  the 
best  pal.  Sylvia,  you're  not  going  to  be  a  rotten  snob 
about  a  man  who  fought  for  you,  side  by  side  with  your 
own  brother? 

SYLVIA.  You  know  I'm  not  a  snob.  I  love  Peggy  and 
I  like  Tom.  But  I  can't  marry  all  the  men  who  fought 
for  me.  I  don't  want  to  marry  anyway.  All  I  want  to  do 
is  get  acquainted  again  with  my  mother. 

[NORA,  a  housemaid,  enters. 

NORA.  Mr.  Alan,  a  gentleman  to  see  you. 

[ALAN  takes  the  card,  looks  at  it. 

SYLVIA.  Why,  Nora,  we  can't  see  anyone  today. 

NORA.  That's  what  I  told  him.  It's  something  to  do 
with  your  mother. 

SYLVIA.  [Going  to  ALAN.]  Who  is  he? 


ACT  i]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  20T 

ALAN.  [Reading.]  "E.  Dudley  Gillette  of  the  Gillette 
Lecture  Bureau." 

NORA.  He  says  it's  very  important. 

ALAN.  Show  him  in. 

SYLVIA.  What  can  he  want? 

ALAN.  [Reading.]  "Business  Representative  for  Tommy 
Perkins,  the  Flying  Ace;  Montague  Travers,  War  Cor 
respondent."  Seems  to  specialise  in  war  heroes. 

SYLVIA.  I'll  bet  he's  selling  tickets. 

[She  sits  in  the  armchair. 

[NoRA  shows  in  E.  DUDLEY  GILLETTE,  a  man  of  thirty- 
five,  of  good  appearance  and  address,  but  not  a  gen 
tleman.  His  manner  is  over-suave,  his  clothes  too 
correct. 

GILLETTE.  Good  morning,  Captain  Fair. 

ALAN.  No,  just  plain  Mr.  Fair  now. 

GILLETTE.  [Bowing  to  SYLVIA.]  I  hope  you'll  excuse  this 
intrusion,  [to  ALAN]  but  I  have  something  here  for  Major 
Fair  that  was  too  important  to  entrust  to  a  messenger  as 
I  want  her  to  receive  it  immediately  on  her  arrival. 

[He  takes  from  his  pocket  an  envelope  and  hands  it 
to  ALAN. 

ALAN.  Won't  you  sit  down? 

GILLETTE.  Thank  you. 

ALAN.  [Indicating  the  envelope.']  Something  of  a  confi 
dential  nature? 

GILLETTE.  Well,  no.  It's  an  offer  to  make  a  lecture  tour 
of  the  country  under  my  management. 

ALAN.  A  what?  [He  opens  the  envelope. 

SYLVIA.  Mother  lecture?    Oh,  how  ghastly! 

ALAN.  [Reading  the  contract.]  This  wouldn't  interest  her. 

GILLETTE.  Oh,  I  don't  know.  My  London  representative 
cabled  that  she  would  give  my  offer  her  consideration. 

ALAN.  That's  my  mother's  way  of  being  polite. 

GILLETTE.  Possibly.  Still  she  did  go  to  London  to  see 
my  man. 


208  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  i 

ALAN.  You  knew  that  mother  was  arriving  on  the  Olym 
pic? 

GILLETTE.  Yes,  that's  why  I  am  here.    I  wanted  to  be 
the  first  on  the  ground.    There  will  be  a  keen  competition 
for  her  among  the  lecture  bureaus. 
ALAN.  Why? 

GILLETTE.  The  newspapers  have  been  full  of  the  work 
done  overseas  by  Major  Fair  and  her  Unit;  her  decoration 
by  the  French  Government,  all  that  with  her  social  position 

here 

SYLVIA.  [Indignantly.']  Why,  I  think  it's  perfectly  awful 
of  you  or  anyone  else  to  think  that  our  mother  is  going 
around  the  country  showing  off  her  Croix  de  Guerre. 

ALAN.  Mother  has  no  desire  to  boast  of  her  work.  There 
is  not  the  slightest  use  leaving  this. 

[He  replaces  the  contracts  in  the  envelope  which  he 

offers  to  GILLETTE,  who  rises. 

GILLETTE.  Because  her  family  wouldn't  permit  her  to 
accept  it? 

ALAN.  [Snubbing  him.]  My  mother  makes  her  own  de 
cisions. 

GILLETTE.  [Very  suavely.]   Then  why  can't  I  leave  it  for 
her? 
ALAN.  [Coldly.]  No  reason. 

GILLETTE.  Well,  then 

[ALAN  looks  at  GILLETTE,  then,  turning  away,  places 
the  envelope  in  the  pocket  of  his  coat.     SYLVIA  is 
looking  at  GILLETTE.    GILLETTE  looks  at  her  inter 
estedly,  in  fact  rather  rudely  "sizes  her  up."    SYLVIA 
is  puzzled  and  a  little  embarrassed,  being  utterly  un 
accustomed  to  that  kind  of  scrutiny.    ALAN  turns. 
GILLETTE  quickly  assumes  a  suave  smile. 
GILLETTE.  Thank  you.    Good  morning. 
ALAN.  Good  morning. 

[GILLETTE  goes.    SYLVIA  rises  and  runs  over  to  ALAN. 
SYLVIA.  [Distressed — almost  in  tears.]  Oh,  Alan,  mother 


ACT  i]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  209 

wouldn't  do  it.    Surely,  when  she's  been  home  only  once  in 
four  years  she  won't  want  to  go  away  again. 
ALAN.  [Soothingly.]  Certainly  not. 

[He  puts  his  arms  around  SYLVIA. 
[ANGELICA  BRICE,  a  pretty  blonde  widow  in  the  thirties, 
fragile,  appealing,  essentially  feminine  and  charm 
ingly  gowned,  appears  at  the  door  to  the  terrace. 
ANGY.  Hello,  Sylvia. 

ALAN.  [Impatiently.]  Oh 

[He  turns  away  in  disgust.     SYLVIA  runs  to  ANGY. 
SYLVIA.  Oh,  Angy,  darling.    Come  in. 
ANGY.  Oh,  no.    I  simply  wanted  your  mother  to  have  this 
little  welcome  from  her  next-door  neighbour. 

SYLVIA.  That's  lovely  of  you.  Come  in  and  tell  me  if  you 
think  the  place  looks  nice. 

[She  takes  the  violets,  places  them  in  a  bowl  on  the 
table.  ANGY  comes  into  the  room.  She  looks  at  the 
decorations. 

ANGY.  Oh,  it's  charming!    How  do  you  do,  Alan? 
ALAN.  [Coldly. .]  How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Brice. 
ANGY.  Oh,  it's  charming. 

[She  sits  in  the  arm-chair. 

SYLVIA.   [Running  over  to  her.]  I'm  so  glad  mother  came 
home  in  May.    She  loves  the  Spring  flowers. 
ANGY.  I  suppose  your  father's  at  the  dock. 
SYLVIA.  I  hope  so.    I  had  such  a  time  getting  him  last 
night  at  Washington. 

ANGY.  Oh,  darling,  I  could  have  told  you  he'd  be  here 
today.  I'm  so  glad  for  you  that  your  mother's  coming  home 
at  last. 

ALAN.  [Significantly.]  I'm  so  glad  for  father's  sake. 
[He  looks  meaningly  at  ANGY,  who,  although  thor 
oughly  understanding  the  implication  in  his  speech, 
is  apparently  oblivious.    SYLVIA  is  wholly  unaware  of 
ANGY'S  and  ALAN'S  fencing. 

ANGY.  He  must  have  missed  her.  Hasn't  it  been  awfully 
sporting  of  him  never  to  have  complained? 


210  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  i 

SYLVIA.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  you,  we'd  have  died  of  lone 
liness.  I'll  never  forget  how  good  you've  been  to  me  and 
daddy. 

ALAN.  Neither  will  I.  You've  tried  your  darnedest  to 
take  mother's  place.  And  even  if  you  haven't  succeeded, 
you've  made  a  corking  good  stab  at  it. 

ANGY.  [To  ALAN,  very  sweetly.]  So  glad  you  appreciate 
it. 

ALAN.  Why,  no  one  in  this  family  appreciates  you  as  I  do. 
SYLVIA.   [Delightedly  runs  to  ALAN.]   I  knew  you'd  like 
Angy  when  you  understood  her. 

ALAN.  Why,  Sylvia,  I've  always  understood  Mrs.  Brice. 
[He  is  standing,  his  arm  about   SYLVIA,  smiling  at 
ANGY,  who  is  furious  with  him,  although  she  seems 
to  be  unruffled.    The  voices  of  NANCY  and  JEFFREY 
are  heard  in  the  hall. 

NANCY.  [Outside.]  Oh,  children!    Where  are  you? 
SYLVIA.  Mother! 
ALAN.  It's  mother! 

[They  rush  into  the  hall  calling  excitedly,  "Mother! 
Mother!"  There  is  a  babel  of  excited  greeting. 
ANGY  rises  and  retires  to  a  position  where  she  can 
watch  unobserved  the  advent  of  NANCY  FAIR,  who 
appears  presently,  between  SYLVIA  and  ALAN,  her 
arms  about  their  shoulders.  In  her  Overseas  uni 
form  of  horizon  blue,  Sam  Browne  belt,  beret  and 
ribbon  of  the  Croix  de  Guerre,  she  is  a  vividly 
arresting  figure,  the  personification  of  those  American 
women  brought  into  prominence  during  the  war  be 
cause  of  their  executive  ability,  gay  courage  and 
unselfish  devotion. 

NANCY  is  overjoyed  at  the  meeting  with  her  children. 
She  hugs  and  kisses   SYLVIA  repeatedly.    ALAN  is 
trying  to  attract  his  mother's  attention  and  finally 
taps  her  affectionately  on  the  shoulder. 
ALAN.  Mother,  I  could  do  with  a  little  of  that. 
NANCY.  Alan!    Alan! 


ACT  i]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  211 

[She  turns  to  him  and  he  takes  her  in  his  arms.  She 
kisses  him,  puts  him  away  from  her,  looks  at  him 
fondly,  then  embraces  him  again  and  again.  SYLVIA 
has  run  across  to  JEFFREY  FAIR,  who  has  followed 
them  and  is  watching,  happily,  the  reunion  of  his 
family.  He  is  fifty  and  represents  the  highest  type 
of  the  American  man  of  affairs. 

ANGY,  coming  forward,  is  seen  by  JEFFREY.     He  is 

slightly  startled  and  visibly  annoyed,  but  controlling 

himself  he   bows,   smilingly,   then   tries   to   attract 

NANCY'S  attention. 

JEFFREY.  Oh,  Nancy!    [NANCY  does  not  hear  him.    He 

raises  his  voice.']    Oh,  Nancy !     [NANCY  turns  to  him. 

He  indicates  ANGY.]     This  is  Mrs.  Brice. 

[ALAN,  annoyed,  moves  away.    NANCY  turns  to  MRS. 
BRICE,  smiling,  and  is  about  to  go  to  her,  when 
SYLVIA  runs  to  ANGY  and,  taking  her  by  the  hand, 
brings  her  to  NANCY. 
SYLVIA.  Mother,  this  is  Angy! 

NANCY.  [Very  cordially.]  Oh,  you  are  Sylvia's  Angy. 
The  child's  letters  have  been  full  of  you.  You've  been  so 
kind  to  my  little  girl. 

ANGY.  [Very  sweetly. ,]  Sylvia  and  her  father  have  been 
very  kind  to  me.    I  hadn't  meant  to  intrude. 
SYLVIA.  Oh,  mother,  Angy  brought  these. 

[She  picks  up  the  bowl  of  violets,  shows  them  to 

NANCY,  who  exclaims  at  the  sight  of  them. 
NANCY.  Oh,  how  sweet  of  you! 
ANGY.  I  must  go.    Good-bye,  Sylvia. 

[She  starts  toward  the  door  to  the  terrace. 
NANCY.  You'll  come  again  very  soon,  won't  you? 
ANGY.    Oh,  I'll  be  sure  to!     [She  smiles  very  sweetly  at 
NANCY,  turns,  looks  at  JEFFREY,  waves  her  hand  airily.] 
Bye-bye,  Jeffie! 

[She  goes. 

[A  slight  pause.  NANCY  is  surprised,  amused.  JEFFREY 
annoyed,  confused. 


212  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  i 

NANCY.  [Imitating  ANGY.]  "Jeffie" [Very  inno 
cently.]  Darling,  have  you  been  carrying  on  a  little  bit? 

JEFFREY.  Certainly  not.  [NANCY  laughs.  ALAN  is 
amused.  SYLVIA  oblivious.  JEFFREY,  embarrassed,  pre 
tends  to  search  for  something  on  the  table.]  Damn  it  all, 
you  never  can  find  a  match  in  this  house! 

SYLVIA.  Here  they  are.    You  never  look. 

[JEFFREY  goes  to  SYLVIA,  who  gives  him  a  match. 
NANCY  laughs.    She  looks  about  her. 

NANCY.  Well,  Alan,  some  swell  dugout. 

SYLVIA.  Daddy,  listen  to  mother  talking  slang. 

ALAN.  Get  our  decorations? 

NANCY.  Bless  your  hearts!     They  are  lovely  1 

SYLVIA.  Our  decorations!    /  did  it  all. 

NANCY.  Sylvia,  that  placard's  going  it  a  bit  strong.  Your 
mother  isn't  a  heroine. 

SYLVIA.  [Expostulating.]  Aren't  you  a  Major,  and  deco 
rated,  and  everything? 

NANCY.   [With  mock  seriousness.]   'N  everything! 

SYLVIA.  Mother,  when  you  were  given  the  Croix  de 
Guerre,  did  the  General  kiss  you  on  both  cheeks? 

[JEFFREY  advances  towards  them. 

NANCY.  Ask  me  some  other  time,  darling;  your  father  is 
listening. 

JEFFREY.  If  he  didn't,  he  was  a  poor  fish! 

[NANCY  blows  him  a  kiss. 

SYLVIA.  Poor  daddy  When  I  think  how  you  slaved  in 
that  old  Quartermaster's  Department,  I  don't  see  why  they 
didn't  decorate  you. 

JEFFREY.  They  don't  pin  any  medals  on  you  for  trying  to 
save  the  people's  money. 

NANCY.  [Looking  about  her.]  Is  all  this  magnificence 
mine? 

JEFFREY.  Are  you  referring  to  me? 

ALAN.  No.    She  means  me. 

NANCY.  I  mean  Sylvia.    Gracious,  child,  what  have  you 


ACT  i]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  213 

been  taking  to  make  you  grow?    Jeff,  isn't  she  the  prettiest 
daughter  that  ever  was? 

JEFFREY.  Look  at  her  father. 

NANCY.  Oh,  you!    Alan,  you  look  simply  scrumptious! 

JEFFREY.  [Sitting  in  the  arm-chair.]  What  about  me? 

NANCY.  You!  You  haven't  pined  away  for  me  at  all. 
I'm  frightfully  disappointed. 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  mother!    Why? 

NANCY.  He  should  be  pale  and  wan,  and  look  at  him! 
He's  fat,  positively  fat! 

JEFFREY.  [Indignantly.]  I  am  not  fat. 

SYLVIA.  He's  not. 

NANCY.  [Laughing.]  Alan,  we'll  have  to  take  him  in 
hand.  You  know  [illustrating]  fifty  times  before  breakfast. 

ALAN.  [Laughs.]  Too  late. 

[He  sits  on  the  couch. 

SYLVIA.  You  two  stop  picking  on  my  daddy.  I  think  he's 
perfectly  grand. 

NANCY.  He  has  me  hypnotised  just  that  same  way,  dar 
ling. 

ALAN.  Yes.    Taken  by  and  large,  he's  not  a  bad  old  scout. 

JEFFREY.  Here,  son,  my  wife  has  been  mingling  with  the 
flower  of  the  youth  of  both  hemispheres,  so  cut  that  old. 
[NANCY  goes  to  JEFFREY,  sits  on  the  arm  of  his  chair 
and  hugs  him. 

NANCY.  None  of  them  so  nice  as  you. 

JEFFREY.  Sure? 

NANCY.  Well,  pretty  sure. 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  mother,  you  look  so  young. 

NANCY.  Nobody  ever  had  a  nicer  daughter. 

ALAN.  They've  got  to  go  some  to  tie  you,  mother — eh, 
Dad? 

JEFFREY.  I'll  say  it. 

NANCY.  Such  compliments  from  my  family!  You're  not 
getting  me  in  a  good  humour  so  that  you  can  spring  some 
thing  on  me? 

ALAN.  How  does  it  seem  to  be  home,  mother? 


214  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  i 

NANCY.  If  Sylvia  won't  be  shocked  by  my  language,  I'll 
confess  I'm  having  a  pippin  of  a  time  I 

[JEFFREY  puts  his  arm  around  her. 
ALAN.  You  are  going  to  find  it  awfully  flat. 

[NANCY  is  smiling.  Her  expression  changes.  She  looks 
at  ALAN  curiously.  SYLVIA  turns.  JEFFREY  leans 
forward  in  his  chair.  They  also  look  in  surprise  at 
ALAN. 

NANCY.  What  do  you  mean? 

JEFFREY.  [Indignantly.}  Yes,  I'd  like  to  know  what  he 
means. 

SYLVIA.  Alan!  The  idea!  She  didn't  find  it  flat  when 
she  was  here  the  last  time. 

ALAN.  Mother  was  busy  getting  money  for  her  Unit,  and 
she  was  going  back.  Take  it  from  me.  I've  been  through  it. 
You're  going  to  miss  the  something — I  don't  know  what  it 
is — but  life  over  there  gets  you.  You  know  that,  mother. 
You'll  find  yourself  thinking  more  about  the  people  you  left 
over  there  than  your  old  friends  here. 

[NANCY  rises  and  moves  toward  SYLVIA.  She  is  think 
ing.  The  others  watch  her  closely.  Seeing  that 
SYLVIA  is  looking  at  her  anxiously,  she  smiles  and 
goes  to  her. 

NANCY.  What  are  you  worrying  about,  dear? 
SYLVIA.  You  won't  get  bored  at  home,  will  you,  mother? 
JEFFREY.  Sylvia,  don't  pay  any  attention  to  this  young 
kill-joy.      [He  rises  and  advances  on  ALAN.]     What  the 
devil  is  the  matter  with  you? 

[He  glares  in  indignation   at   ALAN,  who   rises  and 
goes  to  the  door  to  the  terrace.    SYLVIA,  even  with 
her  mother's  arms  around  her,  is  still  unconvinced. 
SYLVIA.  But  you  won't  get  bored,  will  you? 
NANCY.  No.    No.    No.    You  silly  little  goose! 

[She  has  taken  SYLVIA'S  face  in  her  hands,  kissing 
her  after  each  "No"  and  at  the  end  of  the  speech, 
then,  taking  her  over  to  the  arm-chair,  swings  her 
onto  the  arm  of  the  chair,  where  SYLVIA  perches,  all 


ACT  i]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  215 

smiles  again,  her  arm  around  NANCY,  who  is  seated. 
JEFFREY  is  sitting  on  the  couch,  looking  at  them  and 
smiling  happily. 

JEFFREY.  It's  good  to  see  you  over  there,  Nancy.  We 
missed  you — eh,  Sylvia? 

SYLVIA.  You  missed  us,  didn't  you,  mother? 

ALAN.  When  she  had  the  time  to  think  about  you.    But 

you  never  had  the  time 

JEFFREY.  Say,  will  you  let  your  mother  speak  for  herself? 
ALAN.  Just  the  same,  I'm  right,  aren't  I,  mother? 
NANCY.  Perhaps — in  a  way.    But  I  had  lots  of  time  to  be 
lonesome  for  all  of  you. 

[She  looks  lovingly  at  JEFFREY. 
[NORA  comes  in,  bringing  a  tray. 

NANCY.  Well,  if  it  isn't  Nora!     I  am  glad  to  see  you. 
[She  rises,  greeting  NORA  warmly. 

NORA.  It's  glad  I  am  to  see  you,  Mrs.  Fair,  safe  and 
sound  out  of  them  trenches! 

[NANCY  moves  toward  the  tray  and  begins  to  examine 
its  contents.    JEFFREY  and  SYLVIA  join  ALAN.    They 
stand  watching  her,  much  amused. 
NANCY.  What's  this? 

NORA.  Luncheon's  a  couple  of  hours  off  and  cook  thought 
you  might  like  a  snack. 

NANCY.  Don't  tell  me  it's  honest-to-God  American  boiled 
coffee?  And  sugar!  And  butter!  And  real  cream  from  a 
cow!  I  simply  can't  bear  it! 

NORA.  It's  starved  you've  been  by  them  Paris  chefs! 
NANCY.  You've  said  it,  Nora.     Give  cook  a  kiss.     How 
are  all  the  others? 

NORA.  Oh,  fine,  and  waiting  in  the  kitchen  to  welcome 
you. 

NANCY.  I'll  be  there  very  soon. 

NORA.  Oh,  Mrs.  Fair,  take  no  notice  of  William  if  he's 
kinda  short  with  you.  He's  that  annoyed;  he  didn't  know 
you  were  coming.  He  was  for  having  a  triumphal  arch 
over  the  front  door. 


216  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  i 

NANCY.  I  won't. 

[They  laugh.    NORA  goes.    NANCY  sits  on  the  couch. 
SYLVIA  brings  a  chair  and  sits  beside  her. 

SYLVIA.  Now,  mother,  tell  us  everything. 

JEFFREY.  Oh,  let  your  mother  drink  her  coffee.  We've  all 
the  rest  of  our  lives  to  hear  about  it. 

ALAN.  Oh,  mother,  they  won't  understand.  You  can't 
talk  about  it. 

SYLVIA.  What? 

JEFFREY.  [Guyingly.]  You've  done  nothing  else  since 
you've  been  home.  [Tenderly.]  But  you've  always  had 
one  proud  listener,  son. 

ALAN.   [Shyly.]  Dad! 

NANCY.  And  here's  another!  Come  over  here  this  instant 
and  kiss  your  proud  mother. 

ALAN.  Oh,  mother! 

NANCY.  This  instant  minute. 

JEFFREY.  Captain  Fair,  the  Major  is  talking  to  you. 
[ALAN  snaps  to  a  salute.  NANCY  jumps  to  her  feet, 
returns  it.  They  laugh.  ALAN  kisses  NANCY  and 
she  sits  on  the  couch  with  ALAN  and  SYLVIA  beside 
her.  JEFFREY,  in  the  arm-chair,  looks  fondly  at  the 
group. 

ALAN.  Say,  we're  going  to  have  some  great  talks! 

NANCY.  We're  going  to  fight  this  old  war  right  from  the 
beginning! 

JEFFREY.  Sylvia,  it's  going  to  be  great  to  hear  just  what 
Foch  should  have  done. 

SYLVIA.  You  don't  need  to  think  you're  going  to  sneak  off 
by  yourselves. 

NANCY.  You  can  trail  right  along,  darling.  Well,  Alan, 
I  suppose  you  can't  wait  to  get  back  to  Yale. 

JEFFREY.  He's  not  going  back. 

NANCY.  What? 

ALAN.  I'm  going  in  for  mining. 

NANCY.  Going  to  be  a  horny-handed  son  of  toil  with  a 
little  lamp  in  your  hat  and  everything.  Now,  I'm  only 


ACT  i]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  217 

teasing.  Bless  your  heart,  you  do  what  you  want  to  do. 
You  would,  anyway.  [To  SYLVIA.]  How  are  Biddy  Wynne 
and  all  my  girls? 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  fine.    They're  coming  over  later. 

JEFFREY.   [Annoyed.]  Today? 

SYLVIA.  Yes.  I  'phoned  them  last  night.  I  knew  mother's 
Unit  would  want  to  welcome  her  home. 

NANCY.  Quite  right,  dear.    I'm  crazy  to  see  them. 

JEFFREY.  [Grumbling.]  I  think  people  might  let  us  have 
you  to  ourselves  the  first  day. 

NANCY.  [Changing  the  subject.]  Now,  Sylvia,  tell  me  all 
the  news,  and  I  wouldn't  mind  a  little  gossip. 

SYLVIA.  The  Wellington-Smiths  have  a  new  baby. 

NANCY.  So?    Who's  been  divorced? 

SYLVIA.  Not  a  soul. 

NANCY.  What? 

ALAN.  Yes,  this  war  has  done  that  for  the  country.  Fight 
ing  in  France  has  given  a  lot  of  husbands  a  rest  from  battles 
at  home. 

JEFFREY.  Old  stuff,  Alan.  Possibly  gave  the  wives  a  rest, 
too. 

NANCY.  Thank  you,  Jeffrey.  Sylvia,  no  matter  how  many 
times  you  marry,  always  select  a  gentleman  like  your  father. 
Who  is  this  Angy  Brice? 

ALAN.  Oh,  mother,  just  as  we  were  all  so  happy! 

SYLVIA.  Why,  I  wrote  to  you  about  her. 

NANCY.  Yes,  darling,  I  know  your  Mrs.  Brice.  [Mean 
ingly.]  I  want  to  know  Jeff's  Mrs.  Brice. 

JEFFREY.   [Irritably.]  She's  not  my  Mrs.  Brice. 

NANCY.  Why,  Jeffrey,  don't  you  want  to  tell  me  about 
your  little  playmate? 

JEFFREY.  [Casually.]  Of  course.  She's  a  little  widow 
who  lives  next  door.  Wasn't  she  here  when  you  came  over 
last  time? 

NANCY.  No 

SYLVIA.  Daddy,  don't  you  remember  we  met  her  just  after 
mother  sailed? 


218  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  i 

JEFFREY.  [Indifferently.]  Oh,  yes,  I  believe  we  did.  I'd 
forgotten.  She's  a  charming  woman. 

NANCY.  Uhmm. 

JEFFREY.  Took  a  great  shine  to  Sylvia. 

NANCY.  Oh,  I  think  she  likes  you,  too. 

SYLVIA.  She's  devoted  to  us.  We've  seen  her  every  day. 
We  three  had  great  times.  Motor  rides,  picnics 

NANCY.  Just  a  moment,  Sylvia.  Did  I  hear  correctly? 
Your  father  on  a  picnic? 

JEFFREY.  Sylvia  liked  them. 

NANCY.  Oh,  I  hope  Angy  did,  too.  Alan,  don't  you  like 
picnics? 

SYLVIA.  Alan!     Oh,  he  hasn't  been  here. 

NANCY.  Where  have  you  been?  Now,  Alan,  'fess  up. 
Who  is  she? 

[ALAN  is  embarrassed,  conjused.    SYLVIA  enjoys  it  for 
a  moment,  then  comes  to  his  rescue. 

SYLVIA.  Alan  has  been  visiting  his  "buddy." 

NANCY.  Oh! 

[ALAN  looks  gratefully  at  SYLVIA. 

SYLVIA.  So  you  see,  mother,  I  had  to  depend  on  Angy. 
I  Red  Crossed  with  her  in  town. 

NANCY.  Rather  a  fag,  going  to  New  York,  wasn't  it? 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  daddy  drove  us  in  and  out.  Sometimes  we 
dined  on  the  way  home,  and  when  I  was  too  tired  I  let 
Daddy  and  Angy  dine  together.  They  didn't  mind. 

NANCY.   [Quizzically.]  No? 

SYLVIA.  Wasn't  it  sweet  of  them? 

NANCY.  That  was  thoughtful.  What  made  you  tired, 
dear? 

JEFFREY.  [Irritably.]  Oh,  the  heat  and  one  thing  and 
another.  But  let  us  drop  Mrs.  Brice. 

NANCY.  Oh,  my  dear,  I  couldn't.  What  would  people  say 
when  she  has  been  so  kind  to  you?  I  am  going  to  be  very 
nice  to  her. 

[NoRA  enters. 

NORA.  Oh,  Mr.  Alan,  Mr.  Gillette  has  just  telephoned. 


ACT  i]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  219 

ALAN.  Yes? 

NORA.  I  told  him  you  couldn't  be  disturbed  and  he  asked 
me  to  remind  you  about  the  contract  he  left  for  Mrs.  Fair. 
[She   takes  the  tray   and  goes.     ALAN   and   SYLVIA 
exchange  glances. 

NANCY.  Contract?    What  contract? 

ALAN.  Oh,  it's  nothing  you  need  bother  about  now, 
mother. 

SYLVIA.  It  can  wait. 

NANCY.   [Rising.]   Children,  I  am  dying  of  curiosity. 

ALAN.  Honestly,  it's  of  no  importance. 

JEFFREY.  Your  mother  is  the  best  judge  of  that.  Give  it 
to  her. 

ALAN.  [Giving  NANCY  the  envelope.}  Oh,  all  right.  [To 
JEFFREY.]  It's  a  contract  for  a  lecture  tour. 

JEFFREY.  A  wha — a  lecture  tour!    Oh,  this  is  immense! 
[JEFFREY  shrieks  with  laughter.    NANCY,  who  has  been 
reading  the  contract,  goes  toward  him. 

NANCY.  Well,  Mr.  Jeffrey  Fair,  there  is  nothing  funny 
about  the  money  he  offers  me.  Alan,  what's  a  hundred  times 
$300? 

ALAN.  $30,000. 

NANCY.  Help! 

JEFFREY.  Oh,  it's  a  fake. 

SYLVIA.  [Rising.]  Mother,  you  couldn't  lecture.  You 
don't  know  how. 

NANCY.  Oh,  don't  I,  miss?  I  gave  a  little  talk  one  night 
to  the  boys  on  the  boat  and  they  assured  me  that  I  was 
a  riot. 

JEFFREY.  What  did  you  talk  about? 

NANCY.  My  experiences. 

SYLVIA.  Did  you  like  doing  it? 

NANCY.  It  was  rather  fun.  Of  course,  if  I  did  it  here 
it  wouldn't  be  for  money. 

JEFFREY.  But,  Nancy,  you're  not  going  to  do  it  here. 

ALAN.  That  contract  calls  for  a  Coast-to-Coast  tour. 

NANCY.  I've  never  been  to  California. 


220  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  i 

JEFFREY.  Why,  you  haven't  been  home  for  more  than 
twenty  minutes.  You're  surely  not  contemplating  going 
away  again?  [NANCY  is  silent.]  Nancy,  what  are  you 
thinking  about? 

NANCY.  I  was  just  thinking  that  $30,000  would  do  a  lot 
of  reconstructing 

ALAN.  She's  back  in  France.    What  did  I  tell  you? 

JEFFREY.  [Rising.]  This  home  could  do  with  a  little 
"reconstructing." 

NANCY.  [Meaningly.]  Oh,  come  now,  Jeff!  After  what 
I've  seen  and  heard  today,  you  can't  tell  me  that  you  really 
need  anything. 

SYLVIA.  We  need  you,  mother,  awfully. 

[She  goes  to  NANCY. 

NANCY.  [Kissing  her.]  Well,  my  lamb,  you  are  going  to 
have  me. 

JEFFREY.  The  question  is,  for  how  long? 

NANCY.  It's  a  wise  wife  who  keeps  her  husband  guessing. 
Come  along,  Sylvia,  and  watch  mother  get  the  glad  hand 
from  the  help. 

[SYLVIA  laughs  as  they  leave  the  room  with  their  arms 
about  each  other. 

ALAN.  I  could  choke  Nora.  I  was  going  to  hide  that 
contract. 

JEFFREY.  Oh,  this  Gillette  individual  would  have  got  to 
her  sooner  or  later.  [There  is  a  slight  pause.]  Alan,  I 
don't  want  you  to  misunderstand  about  Mrs.  Brice. 

ALAN.  I  don't  on  your  end  of  it.  But  she's  after  you, 
Dad. 

JEFFREY.  Maybe.  But  that'll  be  finished.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  I  didn't  mean  to  go  it  so  strong.  Lonely. 

ALAN.  Oh,  Hell!    I  know,  I  know. 

JEFFREY.  Do  you  think  there's  been  any  talk? 

ALAN.  You  can  bet  your  life  not  where  I  could  hear  it. 

JEFFREY.  Alan,  you're  a  great  old  son. 

ALAN.  You're  some  dad!  [A  pause.]  Say,  dad,  do  you 
mind  if  I  say  something  to  you? 


ACT  i]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  221 

JEFFREY.  If  you  have  some  advice  up  your  sleeve,  shake 
it  out. 

ALAN.  Kind  of  fresh,  me  advising  you. 

JEFFREY.  You've  seen  things.  You're  not  a  kid  any 
longer.  You  fought  for  me.  It  seems  to  me  that  gives 
you  the  right  to  speak  your  mind. 

ALAN.  You  know,  mother  is  the  greatest 

[JEFFREY  has  started  to  say  "greatest  ever"  also.    He 
stops. 

JEFIREY.  If  you  are  going  to  do  this  as  a  duet,  let's  get 
together. 

ALAN  and  JEFFREY.  Mother  is  the  greatest  ever. 

JEFFREY.  That's  unanimous.    Now,  fire  away! 

ALAN.  Mother  made  a  whale  of  a  hit  in  France. 

JEFFREY.  Yes,  I  know.  If  she  wanted  to  she  could  call 
Pershing  "Jack,"  and  Haig  "Doug." 

ALAN.  Not  forgetting  "Ferdie"  Foch.  [They  laugh. 

Over  here,  they  are  going  to  be  there  strong  with  the  palaver. 

JEFFREY.  Yes,  I  expect  that. 

ALAN.  Mother's  going  to  fall  for  it. 

JEFFREY.  Yes,  I've  discounted  that,  too. 

ALAN.  Have  you  discounted  the  effect  on  her  when  it's 
all  over? 

JEFFREY.  I  hadn't  gotten  as  far  as  that. 

ALAN.  Take  a  running  jump  and  arrive  there. 

JEFFREY.  Humm. 

ALAN.  You've  got  to  heel  yourself  for  the  day  when 
mother  takes  a  look  around  and  says:  "France  never  was 
like  this." 

JEFFREY.  Humm. 

ALAN.  And  when  that  cold  grey  morning  arrives,  don't  be 
too  busy  to  make  life  very  damned  interesting  for  mother. 

JEFFREY.  That's  a  pretty  tall  order  for  a  man  without  any 
gold  lace  on  his  chest,  but  I'll  do  my  damnedest. 

ALAN.  And  if  I  see  the  symptoms  coming,  having  been 
through  it  myself,  I'll  give  you  the  high  sign. 

JEFFREY.  Do.    Have  a  cigarette? 


222  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  i 

ALAN.  Thanks. 

[They  go  out  to  the  terrace,  stopping  to  light  their 
cigarettes,  they  go  down  the  steps  into  the  garden. 
NORA  appears,  showing  in  MRS.  WYNNE. 
NORA.  I'll  tell  Mrs.  Fair  you're  here. 
MRS.  WYNNE.  Thank  you,  Nora. 

[NoRA  goes. 

[From  the  hall,  arm  in  arm  like  three  musketeers,  come 

MRS.  BROWN,  MRS.  PERRIN  and  MRS.  CONVERSE. 

These  women,  including  MRS.  WYNNE,  are  members 

of  the  Unit  which  has  served  with  NANCY  in  France. 

They  are  of  contrasting  types;  all  of  them  in  their 

thirties;  they  wear  uniforms  similar  to  that  of  NANCY. 

MRS.  BROWN,  MRS.  PERRIN  and  MRS.  CONVERSE  are 

gay,  excited;  MRS.  WYNNE  is  rather  tearful. 

MRS.  BROWN.  I'm  so  excited.    I  can  hardly  wait  to  see 

Nancy. 

MRS.  PERRIN.  Soft  pedal  on  that,  Lila,  when  your  hubby's 
around. 

[She  sits  on  the  couch. 

MRS.  BROWN.  Look  at  Biddy!  Biddy,  you  poor  old  fish, 
wake  up;  your  buddy's  home. 

MRS.  WYNNE.  [Tearfully.]  I  can't  seem  to  realise  it. 
MRS.  CONVERSE.  Cut  out  the  sob  stuff,  darling. 

[She  sits  beside  MRS.  PERRIN.  Their  laughter  is  inter 
rupted  by  the  appearance  of  the  remaining  member 
of  the  Unit,  MRS.  WELLS,  a  woman  of  dominating 
personality,  about  fifty  years  of  age;  she  also  is  in 
uniform,  and  carries  a  large  and  very  elaborate 
bouquet. 

MRS.  BROWN.  Get  Wellsie! 

MRS.  WELLS.  Now,  girls,  after  the  salute — and  for  good 
ness'  sake  get  some  snap  in  it — you  advance,  Bridget,  and 
present  the  bouquet  to  Major  Fair. 

MRS.  WYNNE.  [Protesting.]  Why  is  this  presentation 
stuff  wished  on  me? 

MRS.  WELLS.  Weren't  you  Nancy's  buddy? 


ACT  i]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  223 

MRS.  WYNNE.  [Sarcastically.]  I  never  handed  her  any 
bouquets. 

MRS.  BROWN.  Now's  your  chance. 

[She  sits  on  the  arm-chair. 

MRS.  WYNNE.   [Scornfully.]  It  seems  such  a  damn  silly 
thing  to  do. 

MRS.  CONVERSE.  It  is  kind  of  sissy. 

MRS.  WELLS.   [Indignantly.]  I  think  it's  a  sweet  idea. 

MRS.  WYNNE.  How  in  blazes  can  I  salute  and  hand  her  a 
bouquet  at  the  same  time? 

[She  salutes  with  her  right  hand,  presenting  the  bouquet 
with  her  left.    It  is  obviously  awkward. 

MRS.  PERRIN.  I  have  an  idea. 

MRS.  CONVERSE.   [Guyingly.]  Nol 

MRS.  WELLS.  Impossible! 

MRS.  WYNNE.  Really! 

MRS.  PERRIN.   [Going  to  MRS.  BROWN.]  Why  couldn't 
you  hold  it  at  your  side  like  a  sword  and  draw  it — see? 

MRS.  WYNNE.  [Disgusted.]  Oh!    You  poor  simp! 

MRS.  CONVERSE.  Oh,  Lila,  awful! 

MRS.  BROWN.  Terrible! 

MRS.  PERRIN.  Oh,  if  any  of  you  had  thought  of  it! 

MRS.  WELLS.   [Witheringly.]  Throw  the  old  thing  out 
the  window.    I  don't  care. 

[She  sits  beside  MRS.  CONVERSE  on  the  couch. 

MRS.  WYNNE.  I  was  the  goat  of  this  Unit  for  four  years. 

MRS.  BROWN.   [Teasingly.]  Well,  won't  you  be  our  little 
nanny  for  one  more  day? 

MRS.  CONVERSE.   [Innocently.]  What  are  you  going  to 
say,  darling,  when  you  give  it  to  her? 

MRS.  WELLS.  [Casually.]  A  few  graceful  words  of  wel 
come. 

MRS.  WYNNE.  [Furiously.}  I   haven't   got   to   make   a 
speech? 

MRS.  PERRIN.  Why,  sweetie,  you  can't  just  shove  it  at 
her. 


224  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  i 

MRS.  WYNNE.  Here,  Wellsie,  take  your  pretty  posies. 
I'm  going  home. 

[She  throws  the  bouquet  on  the  couch  where  MRS. 
WELLS  is  seated,  then  starts  to  go.  MRS.  PERRIN 
stops  her,  bringing  her  over  to  MRS.  BROWN.  They 
expostulate  with  her. 

MRS.  PERRIN.  Why,  Bridget!     Nancy  would  be  sick  if 
you  weren't  here. 

MRS.  WYNNE.  No,  I've  stood  enough.    No,  I  tell  you  it's 
"finis." 

MRS.  WELLS.  I  seem  to  be  the  one  at  fault.    I'll  go. 

[She  starts  to  the  door.    MRS.  CONVERSE  stops  her. 
MRS.  CONVERSE.  Oh,  Wellsie,  what's  the  matter  with  you? 
Behave!     It's  like  old  times,  hearing  you  two  scrap. 
NANCY.   [Outside.]  Hurry  up,  Sylvia. 
MRS.  BROWN.   [Joyously.]  She's  coming! 
MRS.  WELLS.   [In  great  excitement.]  Fall  in,  Wynne  here. 
Then  Brown.     Converse  next.     [She  turns  in  irritation  to 
MRS.  CONVERSE,  who  has  started  to  the  door.]     Converse! 
[MRS.  CONVERSE  runs  to  MRS.  WELLS,  who  grabs  her  and 
places  her  next  to  MRS.  BROWN.]     Perrin!      [She  shoves 
MRS.  PERRIN  into  place  next  to  MRS.  CONVERSE,  then  takes 
her  own  position  at  the  end  of  the  line.    The  women  <f  dress" 
to  a  perfect  formation.]    Attention! 

[NANCY  rushes  in,  followed  by  SYLVIA. 
NANCY.  Oh,  girls! 
MRS.  WELLS.  Salute! 

[All  the  women  snap  to  a  salute,  which  is  returned  by 
NANCY.  MRS.  WYNNE  takes  two  paces  forward  in 
military  manner  and  salutes  again.  NANCY  returns 
it. 

MRS.  WYNNE.  Major  Fair,  in  the  name  of  your  Unit,  I 
wish  to  extend—        Oh,  Buddy!  Buddy! 

[She  breaks  down  and,  rushing  to  NANCY,  throws  her 

arms  about  her.    They  embrace  wildly. 
NANCY.  Biddy!      Biddy!      My  dear  old   Biddy!      Oh, 


ACT  i]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  225 

Billy  Brown!     And  Mary  Anne!     Oh,  Lila!   and  Wellsie, 
old  girl!     Oh,  this  is  wonderful! 

[She  embraces  them  all  in  turn.  They  are  laughing, 
crying,  in  hysterical  joy  over  their  reunion.  SYLVIA, 
who  has  been  watching  them,  is  much  affected. 

MRS.  PERRIN.   [Tearfully.]  Hello,  Sylvia. 

SYLVIA.   [Tearfully.]  Hello. 

MRS.  CONVERSE.  [Tearfully.]  Oh,  Sylvia!  Isn't  it  won 
derful,  having  mother  home? 

SYLVIA.   [Crying.]  Wonderful. 

MRS.  WYNNE.  [Suddenly  seeing  the  bouquet  on  the 
couch.]  Oh,  damn  it  all,  I  forgot  the  bouquet! 

[She  picks  up  the  bouquet  and  gives  it  to  NANCY,  who 
laughs. 

MRS.  BROWN.  Everybody  cried  all  they're  going  to? 

MRS.  CONVERSE.  Well,  Nancy,  spill  us  the  news. 

NANCY.  What  do  you  want  to  know? 

MRS.  PERRIN.  How's  Clementine? 

NANCY.  Splendid.    Sent  all  of  you  her  dearest  love. 

MRS.  CONVERSE.  Was  there  ever  a  cook  like  Clementine! 

MRS.  PERRIN.  Never.  i 

NANCY.  You  know  that  tin  Lizzie  she  used  to  drive? 
"Ma  chere  Lizette."  I  gave  her  "Lizette"  and  four  new 
tires.  I  marked  it  on  my  report  "abandoned.'7 

MRS.  WELLS.  What  will  she  do  with  it? 

NANCY.  I  suppose  she'll  move  the  pig  out  of  the  parlor. 

Oh,  God  love  her,  how  I  hated  to  say  good-bye!     I  hope  the 

people  at  the  Gare  du  Nord  wore  rubbers.  We  wept  buckets ! 

[The   women    are   seated,    clustered   about    NANCY. 

SYLVIA  stands  beside  her. 

MRS.  CONVERSE.  My,  doesn't  it  bring  it  all  back! 

MRS.  WELLS.  Yes,  if  somebody  would  only  drop  a  bomb 
I'd  feel  perfectly  at  home. 

MRS.  BROWN.  Speaking  of  bombs — remember  Coucy? 

MRS.  PERRIN.  Oh,  Billy,  don't. 

MRS.  WYNNE.  [To  NANCY.]  Buddy,  I'll  always  remem- 


226  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  i 

ber  you  driving  that  first  ambulance  down  the  road  with 
those  Jerrys  overhead,  shooting  at  you. 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  mother,  how  could  you? 

NANCY.  Thank  heaven,  the  Boche  who  followed  me 
couldn't  hit  anything  smaller  than  the  Hippodrome. 

MRS.  BROWN.  That's  why  they  decorated  your  mother — 
for  that  and  a  few  such  trifles. 

SYLVIA.  Did  they  only  give  her  one  measly  little  Croix 
de  Guerre  for  that?  Why,  they  ought  to  have  hung  medals 
all  over  herl 

NANCY.  Oh,  girls,  I  have  a  lovely  letter  from  Poincare 
and  a  screed  from  Petain,  thanking  us  for  our  four  years' 
work  with  the  French  Army. 

MRS.  CONVERSE.  Some  Unit! 

MRS.  PERRIN.  I'll  say  it  was. 

MRS.  BROWN.  Not  so  worse. 

MRS.  WELLS.  We'll  frame  those  letters  and  hang  them  in 
the  club. 

MRS.  BROWN.  Yes.  In  the  smoking-room,  where  all  the 
women  will  be  sure  to  see  it. 

NANCY.  [Giving  SYLVIA  the  bouquet.]  Oh,  Sylvia,  will 
you  put  these  in  my  room?  Then  look  in  my  despatch  box. 
Here  are  the  keys.  Bring  those  kodaks.  I  had  them  fin 
ished  at  last. 

[She  gives  the  keys  to  SYLVIA,  who  runs  out. 

NANCY.  Now,  girls,  tell  me  and  tell  me  true:  How  does 
it  feel  to  be  at  home?  [There  is  silence.]  Don't  everybody 
shriek  with  joy  at  once! 

MRS.  WYNNE.  Seems  to  me  I've  been  home  a  million 
years. 

MRS.  PERRIN.  After  a  couple  of  days  with  my  kiddies,  I 
sighed  for  the  peace  and  quiet  of  an  air  raid. 

MRS.  BROWN.  You're  in  luck  to  have  them.  I've  been 
driven  to  card-indexing  my  hens! 

MRS.  CONVERSE.  I  wish  you'd  come  over  and  card-index 
my  Swede! 

MRS.  WELLS.  I  must  confess  that  after  I  had  kissed  my 


ACT  i]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  227 

old  man  and  all  the  grandchildren,  they  looked  sort  of 
strange  to  me. 

NANCY.  Girls,  this  sounds  awful!  Possibly  Alan  was 
right.  He  said  I  would  find  it  flat. 

MRS.  WYNNE.  After  being  on  the  hop,  skip  and  jump  for 
four  years,  it's  the  very  devil  to  sit  around  "Bla." 

MRS.  PERRIN.  Have  you  any  plans? 

NANCY.  I  had  thought  of  buying  all  the  clothes  in  New 
York,  seeing  all  the  shows,  playing  around  with  my  fam 
ily  ... 

MRS.  CONVERSE.  We've  done  all  that.    And  then  what? 

NANCY.  Why,  eh 

MRS.  PERRIN.  Exactly.    "Why,  eh " 

MRS.  BROWN.  You  see,  Nancy,  now  we  have  time  to 
burn  and  no  matches. 

NANCY.  What  are  all  the  other  war  workers  doing? 

MRS.  BROWN.  Kicking  about  being  demobilised. 

NANCY.  It's  a  burning  shame  that  Washington  couldn't 
have  used  all  this  organised  talent. 

MRS.  WELLS.  Oh,  what  could  you  expect  from  Congress? 

SYLVIA.  [Entering.]  Here  are  the  photographs!  Oh, 
mother,  there  are  a  lot  of  reporters  here  to  see  you. 

NANCY.  Where? 

SYLVIA.  On  the  front  door  step. 

NANCY.  [Rises  quickly.]  Goodness,  child!  Run  and  ask 
your  father  for  some  of  his  best  cigars. 

[SYLVIA  runs  into  the  garden,  calling  "Daddy."  The 
women  have  risen  excitedly  at  the  news  of  the  re- 
porters'  arrival.  They  are  congregated  about  the 
table,  examining  the  photographs,  selecting  those 
they  think  most  suitable  for  publication.  NANCY  is 
adjusting  her  uniform. 

NANCY.  My  hair's  a  sight. 

MRS.  WELLS.  You  look  lovely. 

MRS.  WYNNE.  I'd  give  them  these,  Nancy;  they're  bully 
of  you. 


228  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  i 

NANCY.  I  don't  think  I  want  any  photographs.     Jeff 
mightn't  like  it. 

MRS.  CONVERSE.  If  you  don't,  they  are  sure  to  dig  up 
some  horror. 

NANCY.  Well,  give  me  some  of  the  bunch. 

MRS.    BROWN.  Nancy,    where's   your    Croix    de   Who's 
Whoser? 

NANCY.  Would  you  wear  it? 

MRS.  PERRIN.  Certainly. 

[NANCY  is  pinning  on  the  Croix  de  Guerre  as  SYLVIA, 
JEFFREY  and  ALAN  appear  from  the  terrace. 

JEFFREY.  Hello. 

ALL.  Hello,  Jeff. 

JEFFREY.  Which  one  of  you  girls  wants  a  cigar? 

NANCY.  They're  for  the  reporters. 

JEFFREY.  What  reporters? 

NANCY.  From  New  York.    Come  on,  girls. 

JEFFREY.  You're  not  going  to  see  them? 

ALAN.   [Whispering.]   Careful,  Dad. 

NANCY.  Not  if  you  don't  wish  it. 

JEFFREY.  Well,  all  right. 

MRS.  WELLS.  Hurry  up,  dear,  before  he  changes  his  mind. 
[The  women  surround  NANCY  and  leave  the  room, 
SYLVIA  in  the  lead.    They  are  laughing  and  talking. 
JEFFREY  stands  watching  them,  bewildered. 

JEFFREY.  My  wife!    Can  you  beat  it? 

ALAN.  That's  not  your  wife,  Dad ;  that's  Major  Fair. 

CURTAIN 


THE  SECOND  ACT 

The  scene  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  previous  act.  It  is  an 
afternoon  in  June. 

MRS.  BROWN,  MRS.  WELLS,  MRS.  CONVERSE,  MRS.  WYNNE 
and  MRS.  PERRIN  and  GILLETTE  are  seated,  all  of  them 
engrossed  in  the  afternoon  editions  of  the  New  York 
newspapers.  The  women,  in  contrast  to  the  uniforms 
of  the  first  act,  are  now  wearing  very  charming  after 
noon  gowns. 

MRS.  WELLS.  This  reporter  knows  what  he's  talking 
about. 

MRS.  CONVERSE.  Nancy's  lecture  sure  made  a  hit  last 
night. 

MRS.  BROWN.  A  hit!  Listen  to  this:  [Reading.]  "An 
other  Platform  Star.  Major  Fair  Wins  an  Ovation.  Thrills 
Her  Audience." 

GILLETTE.  I  should  say  she  did.  I've  managed  a  great 
many  lecturers,  but  I  have  never  seen  so  successful  a  first 
appearance. 

MRS.  WYNNE.  Did  you  hear  what  Angy  Brice  said  last 
night? 

MRS.  CONVERSE.  No. 

MRS.  WYNNE.  [Imitating  ANGY'S  manner.]  Nancy's  ac 
count  of  our  work  overseas  made  her  quite  envious  that  she 
had  never  been  one  of  the  Thank-God-For-The- War- Women. 

MRS.  CONVERSE.  Kitty,  kitty,  kitty. 

MRS.  BROWN.  Meow!  Meow! 

MRS.  PERRIN.  Oh,  Mr.  Gillette,  is  Mrs.  Fair  going  to 
sign  that  contract  with  you? 

GILLETTE.  I  hope  so.  You  all  might  help  me  to  persuade 
her. 

229 


230  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  11 

MRS.  WELLS.  When  do  you  want  her  to  go? 

GILLETTE.  In  July. 

MRS.  BROWN.  Isn't  that  too  early? 

GILLETTE.  The  coast  is  full  of  tourists  then;  besides,  I 
want  her  to  go  out  and  get  the  money  before  the  people 
forget  that  there  has  been  a  war. 

MRS.  WYNNE.  But  she's  only  been  home  a  month. 

MRS.  PERRIN.  A  month!  Isn't  that  punishment  enough? 
[From  the  hall  come  NANCY  and  SYLVIA,  both  of  them 
in  pretty  summer  frocks.  NANCY  has  in  her  hand 
the  contract  offered  her  by  GILLETTE  and  has  evi 
dently  been  considering  it. 

NANCY.  Hello,  girls. 

EVERYBODY.  Hello,  Nancy;  hello,  Sylvia. 

NANCY.  Mr.  Gillette,  there's  a  photographer  outside  who 
wants  to  see  me. 

GILLETTE.  It's  the  man  to  take  the  photographs  for  that 
Syndicate  story. 

NANCY.  Which  one? 

GILLETTE.  aA  Day  in  the  Life  of  Major  Fair."  It's  to 
show  your  domestic  side. 

NANCY.  Oh,  I  don't  know.  Girls,  don't  you  think  it's 
rather  intimate? 

MRS.  PERRIN.  Not  at  all. 

MRS.  CONVERSE.  Go  on,  Nancy;  be  a  sport. 

SYLVIA.  [Going  to  him.]  Mr.  Gillette,  what  photographs 
are  you  going  to  take? 

GILLETTE.  Major  Fair  with  her  morning's  mail. 

NANCY.  Can't  you  use  that  one  at  my  desk  that  was 
published? 

GILLETTE.  That'll  be  fine.    Then  one  in  the  garden. 

NANCY.   [Satirically.]  Another  on  my  knees  to  the  cook. 

GILLETTE.  [Enthusiastically.]  One  in  the  kitchen  would 
be  great  stuff. 

SYLVIA.  I  had  better  go  out  and  break  it  to  Hulda. 

NANCY.  She'll  say,  "Ay  ban  goin'  quit." 


ACT  n]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  231 

MRS.  CONVERSE.  Put  her  in  the  photograph  and  she'll 
stay  for  life. 

NANCY.  I  hope  so.    She's  the  seventh  in  four  weeks. 

GILLETTE.  We'll  have  the  first  picture  in  the  garden.  I'll 
go  and  arrange  it.  Come  on,  Sylvia. 

NANCY.  Don't  put  me  among  the  lilies.  They  toil  not, 
neither  do  they  spin. 

[GILLETTE  laughs  and  exits  with  SYLVIA  to  the  garden. 
MRS.  WELLS  rises  and  goes  to  NANCY,  who  has 
joined  MRS.  CONVERSE. 

MRS.  WELLS.  Now,  Nancy,  you're  not  going  to  refuse 
this  great  opportunity  Mr.  Gillette's  offering  you?  Think 
what  we  could  do  with  the  money. 

NANCY.  Reconstruction  work  in  France? 

MRS.  WELLS.  No.  We  could  reconstruct  some  slums  in 
this  country. 

MRS.  WYNNE.  Great  idea,  Wellsie! 

MRS.  CONVERSE.  Splendid  scheme! 

MRS.  PERRIN.  It's  what  we  ought  to  do. 

MRS.  BROWN.  And  right  now. 

MRS.  WELLS.  We  could  keep  the  unit  together. 

MRS.  BROWN.   [Rising.]  I'm  for  that. 

MRS.  PERRIN.  [Rising.}  I'm  for  anything  that  would  give 
us  all  something  real  to  do. 

MRS.  WYNNE.  You've  said  it. 

NANCY.  I  can't  make  up  my  mind.  I  don't  believe  Jeff 
would  approve  and  unless  he  did  I  wouldn't  want  to  go. 

MRS.  WELLS.  Wasn't  he  very  proud  of  your  success  last 
night? 

NANCY.  If  he  was,  he  has  concealed  it  most  carefully. 

MRS.  BROWN.  Hasn't  he  congratulated  you? 

NANCY.  Not  a  congrat.    "Kinda"  took  the  joy  out  of  it. 

MRS.  CONVERSE.  Don't  let  that  worry  you,  Nancy.  A 
husband  hates  to  admit  that  his  wife  can  do  anything. 

MRS.  WELLS.  He's  likely  making  himself  a  bore  at  the 
club  right  now,  bragging  about  you. 


232  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  n 

NANCY.  Do  you  think  so?  But  if  I  went,  what  about 
Sylvia? 

MRS.  WYNNE.  Why  not  take  her  with  you? 
NANCY.  I  don't  believe  she'd  want  to  leave  her  father. 
And  I  don't  know  that  I'd  be  happy  thinking  of  Jeff  here 
alone  again. 

MRS.  PERRIN.  Alan  would  be  here. 

NANCY.  I  hadn't  thought  of  that.    Well,  I'll  think  it  over. 

MRS.  WELLS.  Think  it  over  seriously. 

[SYLVIA  appears  at  the  door  to  the  terrace. 
SYLVIA.  Oh,  mother,  Mr.  Gillette's  ready. 
NANCY.  All  right.    Come  on,  girls.    How  do  I  look? 
MRS.  BROWN.  Fine. 

MRS.  WELLS.  Nancy,  I  ought  to  go  to  market  and  get 
Gilbert's  fruit  for  breakfast.  It's  Saturday  and  all  the 
melons  may  be  sold. 

NANCY.  Oh,  Wellsie,  you  should  worry.    Give  him  prunes. 
[The  women  laugh.    NANCY  takes  MRS.  WELLS  by  the 
arm  and  leads  her  up  to  door,  MRS.  WELLS  expostu 
lating.     They  all  go  down  the  steps  to  the  garden, 
talking.     NANCY   has   given   SYLVIA   the   contract. 
SYLVIA  places  it  on  the  table  and  is  about  to  follow 
the  women  when  ALAN  appears  from  the  hall.    He 
is  in  golf  clothes. 
ALAN.  Oh,  sis. 
SYLVIA.  What? 

ALAN.  Did  you  fix  it  with  Peggy? 
SYLVIA.  Yes.  She's  coming  to  tea. 
ALAN.  That's  great. 

SYLVIA.  Are  you  going  to  tell  mother  and  daddy  this 
afternoon? 
ALAN.  Sure. 

SYLVIA.  Before  Peggy  arrives? 
ALAN.  No. 
SYLVIA.  You  should. 
ALAN.  Not  at  all.    If  I  tell  them  I'm  going  to  marry  a 


ACT  ii]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  233 

stenographer  they  might  be  prejudiced.    Once  they  see  her 
they  won't  care  what  she  is. 

SYLVIA.  I  hope  so. 

ALAN.  Oh,  she'll  bowl  them  right  over  as  she  did  me. 

SYLVIA.  Where's  Daddy? 

JEFFREY.   [Entering.]   Right  here. 

SYLVIA.  How  was  your  game? 

JEFFREY.  Rotten!  Why  didn't  you  and  your  mother 
join  us  at  luncheon? 

SYLVIA.  Mr.  Gillette  came  and  we  couldn't. 

ALAN.   [Sitting.]  Is  that  pest  here? 

SYLVIA.  [Indignantly.]  Dudley's  not  a  pest.  [Smiling.] 
He's  charming. 

ALAN.  Since  when,  "Dudley"? 

SYLVIA.  I  can't  go  on  calling  a  man  I've  seen  almost 
every  day  for  a  month  Mr.  Gillette.  Can  I,  Daddy? 

ALAN.  [Coming  over  to  her.]  Don't  let  me  catch  you 
flirting  with  him. 

SYLVIA.  Why,  Alan  Fair,  I  don't  know  how. 

JEFFREY.  Alan,  don't  talk  such  damn  nonsense. 

SYLVIA.  Thanks,  Daddy. 

[ALAN  returns  to  the  arm-chair. 

JEFFREY.  Where's  your  mother? 

SYLVIA.  In  the  garden,  being  photographed. 

JEFFREY.  Again? 

ALAN.  What's  the  idea  this  time? 

SYLVIA.  It's  for  a  magazine  article  showing  her  domestic 
side. 

JEFFREY.  I  hope  the  camera  can  find  it. 

[As  he  passes  the  table  he  sees  the  contract  lying  on  it. 
He  picks  it  up,  sits,  and  begins  to  read  it.  SYLVIA 
goes  over  to  ALAN,  who  is  seated. 

SYLVIA.  Oh!    Have  you  seen  the  afternoon  papers? 

JEFFREY.  We  have. 

SYLVIA.  Aren't  they  wonderful?  [ALAN  is  silent.  SYLVIA 
goes  to  JEFFREY.]  Aren't  they  wonderful?  [JEFFREY  does 
not  answer.]  Oh,  I  think  that  you  are  both  as  mean  as  you 


234,  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  n 

can  be  about  mother!  I  should  think  you'd  be  proud  of 
her! 

JEFFREY.  We  were. 

SYLVIA.  Why  aren't  you  now?  Everybody  was  crazy 
about  her  last  night  and  neither  of  you  so  much  as  con 
gratulated  her. 

ALAN.  I  couldn't  get  near  her. 

SYLVIA.  You  didn't  try  very  hard.  And,  daddy,  you  left 
us  flat  and  went  home  with  Angy  Brice. 

JEFFREY.  Angy  was  feeling  seedy. 

SYLVIA.  Humph!  Maybe.  Sometimes  I  think  Angy 
doesn't  like  mother. 

ALAN.  Just  finding  that  out? 

JEFFREY.  Nonsense,  children;  she  admires  her  enor 
mously. 

SYLVIA.  You  might  have  waited  and  said  something  nice 
to  mother  this  morning. 

ALAN.  We  had  a  foursome  on  and  she  wasn't  up. 

JEFFREY.  Oh,  enough  people  will  make  a  fuss  over  her. 

SYLVIA.  I  don't  see  why  you  two  hate  the  "fuss"  every 
one  makes  over  mother.  She  can't  help  being  celebrated 
and  having  people  chase  after  her.  You  see  just  as  much 
of  her  as  I  do.  I  don't  mind,  but  you  and  Alan  act  so 
funny.  [Tear j idly .]  Nothing's  the  same  as  I  thought  it 
would  be  when  mother  came  home.  I  don't  know  what's 
the  matter. 

JEFFREY.  [Going  to  SYLVIA.]  Why,  Sylvia,  Alan  and  I 
wouldn't  do  anything  to  worry  you  for  the  world,  would 
we? 

ALAN.  Certainly  not. 

SYLVIA.  [Tearfully.]  Then  why  aren't  you  both  nicer 
to  mother? 

JEFFREY.  [Taking  her  in  his  arms.]  Oh,  come  now;  don't 
cry.  Don't  you  know  that  your  old  daddy  wouldn't  hurt 
you?  Pick  out  your  spot  and  I'll  lie  down  and  let  you  walk 
on  me.  [SYLVIA  smiles]  That's  better. 


ACT  n]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  235 

[He  kisses  her,  then  SYLVIA  takes  his  hands  and  tries 

to  pull  him  towards  the  door  to  the  terrace. 
SYLVIA.  Don't  you  want  to  come  out  and  get  in  the  muss? 
JEFFREY.  Who's  out  there? 
SYLVIA.  Bridget  Wynne  and  the  others. 
JEFFREY.  [Dropping  SYLVIA'S  hands. ,]    No.    I  saw  all  of 
them  yesterday. 

SYLVIA.  Now,  Daddy,  you're  not  going  to  be  nasty  about 
these  photographs? 
JEFFREY.  Not  a  yap  out  of  me. 

[He  laughs.     SYLVIA  kisses  him,  then  runs  down  the 
steps,  calling  "Oh,  mother!"    NANCY  and  the  women 
who  are  at  the  right  of  the  garden  call  to  her.    JEF 
FREY  follows  SYLVIA  to  the  door,  where  he  stands 
looking  off  into  the  garden,  from  which  come  the 
sounds  of  laughter  and  conversation. 
JEFFREY.  Gosh,  I'd  like  to  come  into  this  place  just  once 
and  not  find  that  bunch  of  women  here.    A  man  would  have 
more  privacy  in  the  Grand  Central  Depot. 

ALAN.  You  said  it.     Whenever  mother  is  at  home  this 
house  looks  like  a  Club  women's  Old  Home  Week. 

JEFFREY.  Wouldn't  you  think,  after  four  years  together, 
they'd  be  tired  of  each  other? 

[ALAN  joins  JEFFREY  at  the  door. 
ALAN.  And  the  line  of  flattery  they  hand  out  and  mother 
lapping  it  up  like  a  cat  does  cream! 

JEFFREY.  I  know.    Even  a  woman  as  level-headed  as  your 
mother  will  soon  believe  she's  the  greatest  thing  in  the* world. 

[He  goes  to  the  arm-chair  and  sits. 
ALAN.  Why  don't  you  take  her  away,  out  of  it  all? 
JEFFREY.  She's  booked  up  a  month  ahead.     Banquets, 
receptions,  although  I  thought  she  had  been  given  one  by 
everybody  from  the  Mayor  down  to  the  Conductorettes' 
Union. 

ALAN.  And  they  have  almost  worn  out  that  Croix  de 
Guerre  passing  it  around  from  hand  to  hand. 
JEFFREY.  Yes,  and  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it? 


23G  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  n 

ALAN.  Why  did  you  let  her  start? 

JEFFREY.  Who  told  me  to  keep  her  busy? 

ALAN.  I  did — I  did.  I  wasn't  counting  on  the  endurance 
of  women.  If  I  had  hit  a  gait  like  mother's 

JEFFREY.  She  hasn't  rested  a  day  since  she  arrived. 

ALAN.  It's  a  wonder  to  me  that  she  hasn't  had  a  nervous 
breakdown. 

JEFFREY.  Son,  the  only  thing  that  makes  a  woman  have 
a  nervous  breakdown  nowadays  is  having  to  stay  at  home. 
[A  noise  of  laughter  and  high-pitched  gabble  comes  from 
the  garden.]  Listen  to  that  cackle.  What  are  they  doing? 

ALAN.  They're  leaving. 

JEFFREY.  All  of  them? 

ALAN.  No.  Mrs.  Wynne,  the  bodyguard,  is  sticking 
around. 

JEFFREY.  What's  Sylvia  doing? 

ALAN.  Standing  there,  adoring  mother  as  usual. 

JEFFREY.  She  is  the  sweetest  kid. 

ALAN.  [Coming  to  JEFFREY.]  She  is  that.  Doesn't  even 
see  that  mother  is  neglecting  her.  Why  can't  she  settle 
down  and  devote  herself  to  Sylvia? 

JEFFREY.  She  would  if  it  weren't  for  those  women  and 
that  damn  Gillette!  He'll  have  her  signed,  sealed  and  de 
livered. 

ALAN.  Why  don't  you  tie  a  can  to  him? 

JEFFREY.  How?  By  forbidding  him  to  come  here?  My 
boy,  I  haven't  lived  with  your  mother  all  these  years  with 
out  realising  that,  if  you  want  her  to  do  something,  tell  her 
she  can't. 

ALAN.  I'm  "kinda"  that  way. 

JEFFREY.  Yes.    It  works  with  you,  too. 

[They  laugh.  JEFFREY,  rising,  sees  ANGY,  who  has 
come  from  the  left  side  of  the  garden,  and  is  now 
at  the  top  of  the  steps. 

JEFFREY.  Hello,  Angy! 

ANGY.  May  I  come  in? 

JEFFREY.  Certainly. 


ACT  11]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  237 

ANGY.  Sure  I'm  not  intruding? 

ALAN.  [Sarcastically.]  Oh,  not  at  all.  Won't  you  sit 
down? 

ANGY.  Oh,  I  simply  wanted  to  see  Jeff  a  minute 

ALAN.  Might  as  well  be  comfortable  while  you're  looking 
at  him. 

[With  elaborate  politeness,  he  indicates  the  arm 
chair.  ANGY  looks  at  him  sharply.  ALAN  smiles 
sweetly.  ANGY  controls  her  annoyance,  smiles  at 
him  and  sits.  JEFFREY,  oblivious,  sits  on  the  couch 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  room.  ALAN  wanders  over 
back  of  ANGY'S  chair,  and  takes  up  his  position  in 
the  centre  of  the  room  between  ANGY  and  JEFFREY. 

JEFFREY.  All  right  again? 

ANGY.  Oh,  yes.  It  was  very  close  in  the  clubroom  last 
night.  Then  I  got  quite  worked  up  over  Mrs.  Fair's  lecture. 
It  was  so  harrowing. 

ALAN.   [Very  pleasantly.}  Quite  a  success,  though. 

ANGY.  [Smiling  sweetly  at  him.}  Yes,  being  a  woman  in 
uniform  helped  a  lot,  don't  you  think?  I'm  sure  she'll  be  a 
great  success  on  tour.  She's  been  so  well  advertised.  You 
can't  pick  up  a  magazine  without  seeing  your  mother's  pic 
ture  under  "In  the  Public  Eye." 

JEFFREY.   [Annoyed.}  She's  not  on  tour  yet. 

ANGY.   [Innocently.}  She's  going,  isn't  she? 

ALAN.  It  isn't  decided. 

ANGY.  [Affecting  great  surprise.}  Why,  Mr.  Gillette  told 
me  the  other  day  that  it  was  practically  settled.  He  was 
afraid  that  the  family  might  interfere.  I  laughed  at  the 
idea.  Why  should  you  object  to  Mrs.  Fair  going  away  for 
a  few  months  when  she  had  left  you  all  alone  so  long? 

ALAN.  That  was  kind  of  you  to  reassure  him. 

ANGY.  Of  course  you  could  go  too,  Jeff. 

JEFFREY.  I? 

ANGY.  [Sympathetically.}  I  suppose  it  would  get  tire 
some,  being  merely  the  husband  of  Major  Fair. 

JEFFREY.  Yes,  one  can  get  fed  up  on  it. 


238  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  n 

ANGY.  I'd  be  perfectly  willing  to  take  charge  of  Sylvia 
again. 

ALAN.  Mother  hasn't  gone  yet. 

ANGY.  [Protesting.]  If  she  wants  to,  I  think  she  should. 
It  isn't  as  though  Mrs.  Fair  were  a  home  body  like  me,  just 
content  to  make  a  man  comfortable  and  happy.  You  can't 
expect  anyone  so  brilliant  as  your  mother  not  to  get  bored 
with  her  home  and  her  family.  Not  that  I'm  insinuating 
that  she  is. 

ALAN.  Oh,  no. 

JEFFREY.  [Tired  of  the  discussion.}  What  did  you  want 
to  see  me  about,  Angy? 

ANGY.  This  letter,  but  there's  no  hurry.  [There  is  a 
pause;  ANGY  looks  at  ALAN  and  turns  away,  annoyed.  ALAN 
smiles.  Finally  ANGY,  determined  to  be  rid  of  him,  turns 
and  smiles  sweetly.]  Oh,  Alan,  been  to  see  your  "buddy" 
lately? 

ALAN.  [Confused.]  Why,  yes. 

ANGY.  He  must  be  awfully  attractive  to  have  you  so 
devoted  to  him.  [Meaningly.]  Sylvia  says  he  has  a  very 
charming  sister. 

ALAN.   [Afore  confused.]  Yes — yes,  he  has. 

JEFFREY.   [Rising.]  What's  this  I  hear? 

ALAN.   [Very  much  embarrassed.]  I  think  I'll  go  change. 
[He  hurriedly  leaves  the  room.     JEFFREY  watching 
amused.    ANGY  smiles  to  herself,  pleased  at  having 
rid  herself  of  ALAN.    JEFFREY  goes  to  ANGY. 

JEFFREY.  Well,  Angy,  let  me  see  the  letter. 

ANGY.  The  letter  was  only  an  excuse.  I  saw  those  stupid 
women  in  the  garden  and  I  knew  how  it  bored  you  to  have 
them  around,  so  I  came  over  to  give  you  an  excuse  to  get 
away. 

JEFFREY.  Good  of  you,  Angy,  but  I'll  stay  here.  They 
have  to  go  home  some  time,  if  it's  only  to  sleep. 

[He  goes  to   a  chair  below  the  fireplace,  where  he 
sits  facing  ANGY,  who  looks  annoyed  at  the  failure 


ACT  n]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  239 

of  her  ruse;  as  JEFFREY  turns  to  her  she  smiles 
sweetly. 

ANGY.  [Sighing.}  I'd  like  to  be  celebrated  and   have 
women  like  me. 
JEFFREY.  They  do. 

ANGY.  They  don't.    All  their  nasty  husbands  do. 
JEFFREY.  Why  aren't  you  as  nice  to  the  wives? 
ANGY.  I  don't  get  a  chance.    The  husbands  always  grab 
me  and  rush  me  off  to  a  corner.    The  next  man  I  marry  has 
to  build  me  a  house  that's  perfectly  round.     I'm  sick  of 
corners.     [JEFFREY  laughs.}     And  I'm  sick  of  other  wom 
en's  husbands,  too. 
JEFFREY.  Including  me? 

ANGY.  I  haven't  had  enough  of  your  society  since  your 
wife  came  home  to  get  tired  of  you,  and  as  I'm  not  going  to 
have  any  of  it  today,  I  may  as  well  go  home. 

[She  rises  and  starts  toward  the  terrace.     JEFFREY 
follows  her. 

JEFFREY.  Oh,  wait,  Angy,  I 

[He   stops,   arrested   by   the   appearance   of   NANCY 
and  MRS.  WYNNE  entering  from  the  terrace.    NANCY 
is  surprised  at  the  sight  of  ANGY,  then  comes  to 
ward  her.    NANCY'S  manner  is  polite  but  not  cordial. 
J.JANCY.  How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Brice?    Oh,  Jeff!     I  was 
so  sorry  we  couldn't  come  to  the  club. 
JEFFREY.   [Coldly.}  That's  all  right.    Sylvia  explained. 
ANGY.  Oh,  Mrs.  Fair,  I  don't  know  what  you  must  have 
thought  of  me  running  away  with  Jeff  last  night. 
NANCY.  Didn't  even  know  you  did! 
ANGY.  I  wanted  to  stay  and  tell  you  how  splendid  you 
were,  but  I  was  rather  upset. 

•    MRS.  WYNNE.  [Smiling.}  Yes.    Don't  you  hate  to  hang 
around  where  another  woman  is  making  the  hit? 

NANCY.  That  doesn't  often  happen  where  Mrs.  Brice  is. 
Does  it,  Jeff? 

ANGY.  Oh,  really. 


240  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  n 

NANCY.  You  will  have  to  excuse  me.  I  have  to  put  on 
my  hat  and  powder  my  nose.  Come  along,  Biddy. 

JEFFREY.  Are  you  going  out  again,  Nancy? 

NANCY.  Yes,  dear,  going  over  to  the  Club. 

ANGY.  Oh,  then  may  I  borrow  your  nice  husband  to  help 
me  with  some  stupid  business  things? 

NANCY.  If  you'll  be  sure  to  return  him. 

ANGY.  I  always  have,  haven't  I?     See  you  later,  Jeff. 

JEFFREY.  If  I  can  manage  it. 

ANGY.  Good-bye,  Mrs.  Wynne;  give  my  love  to  dear  old 
Wynne.  Good-bye,  Mrs.  Fair.  Hope  the  photographs  are 
a  success.  I  wish  somebody  wanted  to  take  mine.  It  must 
be  lovely  to  be  notorious. 

[She  smiles  very  sweetly,  then  goes  down  the  steps 
through  the  garden  to  the  left. 

NANCY.  Sweet  woman! 

MRS.  WYNNE.  She's  some  fast  worker  with  the  harpoon. 
Bye-bye,  Jeff. 

[She  goes.  NANCY  is  following  her,  but  at  the  door  to 
the  hall  she  stops,  looks  at  JEFFREY,  who  is  standing 
at  the  fireplace,  then  advances  toward  him. 

NANCY.  Jeff,  dear,  why  don't  you  come  with  us? 

JEFFREY.  What  are  you  going  to  do? 

NANCY.  Mr.  Gillette  wants  a  photograph  of  me  with  my 
girls  on  the  steps  of  the  club-house. 

JEFFREY.  Absurd  idea! 

NANCY.  Why,  what's  absurd  about  it?  You  and  Alan 
were  photographed  in  the  Father  and  Son  Tournament. 

JEFFREY.  That's  different.  I'm  guyed  enough  by  the 
crowd  as  it  is.  I  can't  pick  up  a  magazine  at  the  club 
without  someone  asking  me  if  I'm  looking  for  the  Major's 
picture.  [He  comes  to  her  angrily.}  I  can't  come  into  this 
house  without  falling  over  a  camera,  or  finding  some  inter 
viewer  smoking  my  best  cigars. 

NANCY.  [Taken  aback.]  I'm  sorry.  I  don't  know  quite 
how  I  would  explain  to  Mr.  Gillette  and  the  girls  that  you 
object 


ACT  n]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  241 

JEFFREY.  Don't  let  me  embarrass  you.  If  you  want  to 
go  on  making  yourself  and  your  family  ridiculous,  don't  let 
me  stop  you. 

[He  starts  toward  the  door  to  the  terrace.     NANCY 

is  indignant,  then  controls  herself. 
NANCY.  [Expostulating.]  Jeff! 
JEFFREY.   [Turning.}  Yes? 

NANCY.  I  didn't  think 

JEFFREY.  No.  You  never  think  about  anybody  but  your 
self. 

[NANCY  stands,  annoyed,  hurt,  speechless.  GILLETTE 
enters  hurriedly  from  the  terrace. 

GILLETTE.  Oh,  Mrs.  Fair [Sees  JEFFREY.]     I  beg 

your  pardon. 

JEFFREY.  Oh,  that's  all  right. 

[He  goes,  meeting  SYLVIA  at  the  foot  of  the  steps 
to  the  garden.  They  talk.  GILLETTE  watches 
NANCY  narrowly.  There  is  a  slight  pause,  then 
NANCY  turns  to  go. 

GILLETTE.  Mrs.  Fair,  are  you  going  to  sign  that  contract 
today? 

NANCY.  I  haven't  decided.  I'll  let  you  know  before  the 
day  is  out.  I'll  be  right  down. 

[She  goes,  GILLETTE  looking  after  her  annoyed. 
JEFFREY  leaves  SYLVIA  and  goes  through  the  garden 
in  the  direction  taken  by  ANGY.  SYLVIA  runs  up 
steps  and  comes  into  the  room.  GILLETTE  turns  to 
her. 

GILLETTE.  Aren't  you  coming  with  us? 
SYLVIA.  No.    Miss  Gibbs  is  coming  to  tea. 
GILLETTE.  Who's  she? 
SYLVIA.  Alan's  buddy's  sister. 

GILLETTE.  [Thoughtfully.}  Gibbs?  What's  her  brother's 
name? 

SYLVIA.  Tom  Gibbs. 

GILLETTE.   [Quickly.]  Tom  Gibbs?    What  does  he  do? 

SYLVIA.  Arrests  people. 


242  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  n 

GILLETTE.  [Startled.]  What? 

SYLVIA.  He's  a  detective.  Same  thing  as  a  policeman, 
only  he  doesn't  wear  a  uniform  or  stand  on  the  corner. 

GILLETTE.  I  know  what  a  detective  is!  Are  these  Gibbs 
friends  of  yours? 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  yes. 

GILLETTE.  That's  queer.    They  don't  belong  in  your  set. 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  Dudley,  you  mustn't  be  a  snob.  It  isn't 
being  done  since  the  war. 

GILLETTE.  What  does  Miss  Gibbs  do  now? 

SYLVIA.  She  is  a  stenographer.  Why  are  you  so  inter 
ested  in  her? 

GILLETTE.  Interested  in  her!    With  you  here! 

[He  goes  over  to  SYLVIA,  who  is  seated  in  the 
arm-chair.  His  manner  becomes  subtly,  almost  im 
pudently,  familiar.  He  flatters  SYLVIA  in  order  to 
extract  information  from  her. 

SYLVIA.  You're  not  interested  in  me. 

GILLETTE.  I  wouldn't  dare  tell  you  how  much. 

SYLVIA.  Why  not? 

GILLETTE.  Your  mother  wouldn't  like  it. 

SYLVIA.  She's  not  here. 

GILLETTE.  But  she  will  be.  Think  your  mother  will  sign 
that  contract? 

SYLVIA.  I  don't  know.  [Girlishly,  but  not  flirtatiously.] 
Why  don't  you  tell  me  why  you're  interested  in  me? 

GILLETTE.  [Leaning  over  the  arm  of  chair.]  Don't  tempt 
me,  you  little  siren. 

SYLVIA.  I'm  not. 

GILLETTE.  You're  a  regular  little  baby  vamp. 

SYLVIA.  You  mustn't.    You're  dreadfully  bold. 

GILLETTE.  You  like  it,  don't  you? 

SYLVIA.  Uh  huh.  [Giggling.]  It's  funny,  but  you 
shouldn't— 

GILLETTE.  [Leaning  over  so  that  his  face  is  very  close  to 
SYLVIA'S.]  You  shouldn't  be  so  fascinating.  [SYLVIA  is  a 
little  embarrassed,  but  is  enjoying  it.  GILLETTE,  feeling  that 


ACT  n]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  243 

he  has  impressed  her  sufficiently,  turns  away  and  in  business 
like  tone  and  manner  begins  to  question  her.}     Has  your 
mother  said  anything  about  signing  the  contract? 
SYLVIA.  [Disappointed.}  I  don't  know. 

[She  rises  slowly  and  goes  to  the  mantel,  her  back 

toward  GILLETTE,  who  is  not  looking  at  her. 
GILLETTE.  Do  you  think  your  father  will  object? 
SYLVIA.  [Impatiently.}    I  don't  know. 
GILLETTE.  Do  you  think  that  Alan  will  put  his  oar  in  to 

prevent  your  mother 

SYLVIA.   [Angrily.}  Oh,  I  don't  know! 
[She  stamps  her  foot  and  starts  to  go.     GILLETTE 

realises  his  mistake. 

GILLETTE.  Why,  Sylvia,  what's  the  matter? 
SYLVIA.  [Flaring  out.]  Oh,  it's  always  mother,  mother, 

mother.    I'm  sure  Alan  needn't  worry  about  my  flirt 

[She  stops  abruptly  and  turns  away,  confused.  GIL 
LETTE  smiles. 

GILLETTE.  About  your  what? 
SYLVIA.  Oh,  nothing. 
GILLETTE.  Flirting- with  me? 
SYLVIA.  I  didn't  say  it. 
GILLETTE.  You  were  going  to. 
SYLVIA.  I  won't  tell  you. 

[Very    much    embarrassed,    she    runs    away    to    the 
other  side  of  the  room.    GILLETTE  looks  at  her  as 
though  what  she  had  said  had  given  him  an  idea. 
GILLETTE.  [Slowly.]  It  had  never  occurred  to  me.    [SYL 
VIA  turns  quickly.]     I  mean,  that  you  would. 

SYLVIA.  Well,  I  wouldn't,  Mr.  Dudley  Gillette,  so  there! 
[She  goes  toward  the  door  to  the  hall.     GILLETTE 

is  much  amused.    NORA  shows  in  PEGGY  GIBBS. 
SYLVIA.  Oh,  Peggy,  dear!    Nora,  tell  Mr.  Alan  that  Miss 
Gibbs  is  here. 

[NORA  exits.  GILLETTE  has  turned  and  starts  slightly 
at  the  sight  of  PEGGY,  who  is  a  girl  of  twenty-five, 
sincere,  clear-thinking,  practical,  yet  not  lacking  in 


244  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  n 

feminine  charm  and  humour.    She  wears  a  severely 
plain  yet  modish  frock. 

SYLVIA.  Peggy,  may  I  present  Mr.  Gillette? 

GILLETTE.   [Bowing.}  Miss  Gibbs. 

PEGGY.  [Puzzled.]  I  think  we've  met  before. 

GILLETTE.   [On  his  guard.}   Really? 

SYLVIA.  Where? 

PEGGY.  At  the  War  Relief  Bazaar  in  1914.  I  was  a 
volunteer  there. 

SYLVIA.  The  one  there  was  all  the  scandal  about? 

GILLETTE.  [Casually.}  I  do  remember  something  about 
it.  But  I  wasn't  in  New  York  then. 

PEGGY.  Then  I'm  mistaken. 

GILLETTE.  [Impressively.]  Yes.  I'm  sure  that  if  I  ever 
had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you,  it  would  have  been  utterly 
impossible  for  me  to  forget  you. 

[PEGGY,  annoyed  at  the  flattery,  turns  away.  SYLVIA 
is  pleased  and  smiles  at  GILLETTE.  NANCY  enters, 
wearing  a  hat,  carrying  gloves  and  a  parasol.  She 
is  followed  by  MRS.  WYNNE. 

NANCY.  I'm  ready,  Mr.  Gillette. 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  mother 

[NANCY  turns.    SYLVIA  and  PEGGY  advance  to  her. 

NANCY.  [Shaking  hands.]  Oh,  is  this  Miss  Gibbs?  Sylvia 
told  me  you  were  coming  to  tea.  I'm  so  glad  to  meet  you. 
I've  heard  of  you  from  Sylvia  and  of  course  Alan's  told 
me  all  about  your  wonderful  brother. 

PEGGY.  This  is  a  great  pleasure  for  me.  I've  heard  so 
much  of  you  and  I've  been  so  thrilled  by  all  the  great 
things  you've  done. 

NANCY.  Oh,  Sylvia,  isn't  that  sweet'  Oh,  Biddy,  isn't 
that  charming!  [To  PEGGY.]  This  is  Mrs.  Wynne,  one  of 
my  unit.  I  wonder  if  you  are  going  to  be  very  generous 
and  forgive  me  if  I  run  away  for  a  few  minutes?  Some 
thing  unexpected  and  important.  I'll  hurry  back  as  fast 
as  I  can  for  I  want  to  have  a  real  visit  with  you. 

PEGGY.  Of  course.    Don't  let  me  interfere. 


ACT  n]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  245 

NANCY.  That's  all  very  understanding  of  you.    I  won't 
be  ten  minutes.    Sylvia  will  take  excellent  care  of  you. 
[She  goes,  followed  by  MRS.  WYNNE  and  GILLETTE. 
They  disappear  through  the  garden,  PEGGY  watching 
them  from  the  door  as  they  go. 

SYLVIA.  Well? 

PEGGY.  Oh,  Sylvia,  she's  charming. 

SYLVIA.  Have  I  said  too  much  about  her? 

PEGGY.  Not  half  enough. 

[ALAN  in  immaculate  flannels  comes  rttshing  in  from 
the  door  to  the  hall. 

ALAN.  Peggy!     [PEGGY  turns.    ALAN  goes  to  her  quickly 
and  puts  his  arms  around  her.]     Don't  look,  Sylvia. 

PEGGY.  [Expostulating.]  Oh,  Alan! 

[ALAN  kisses  her. 

ALAN.  Now,  where's  mother? 

SYLVIA.  She's  gone  to  be  photographed  at  the  Club. 

ALAN.  What!    That's  the  limit!    Didn't  she  know  Peggy 
was  coming? 

PEGGY.  I've  just  met  her  and  she's  made  her  excuses  and 
is  coming  right  back. 

ALAN.  Oh! 

PEGGY.  You'd  better  "Oh."    Sylvia,  has  he  always  spoken 
before  he  thinks? 

SYLVIA.  Always. 

ALAN.  Where's  Dad? 

SYLVIA.  I'll  get  him.    He  is  at  Mrs.  Brice's. 

[She  goes. 

PEGGY.  Oh,  Alan,  I'm  going  to  love  your  mother.    I  hope 
she  likes  me. 

ALAN.  You  should  worry. 

PEGGY.  That's  just  what  I'm  doing — worrying. 

ALAN.  Well,  if  anybody  in  my  family  doesn't  like  you, 
you  know  what  they  can  do,  don't  you? 

PEGGY.  Yes.    Make  it  distinctly  uncomfortable  for  you, 

ALAN.  Well,  anyway,  I'm  going  to  announce  our  engage 
ment  today. 


246  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  n 

PEGGY.  Why,  if  Sylvia  had  told  me  that  I  wouldn't  have 
come.  She  said  that  you  simply  wanted  to  introduce  me 
to  your  father  and  mother. 

ALAN.  I  didn't  tell  her  in  what  capacity. 

PEGGY.  Please,  Alan,  let  your  mother  get  to  know  me 
first.  If  you  thrust  me  at  her  it  may  prejudice  her. 

ALAN.  Nonsense.  What's  more,  I'm  going  to  tell  them 
that  we  are  to  be  married  right  away. 

PEGGY.  We  are  not.  I'm  not  going  to  be  rushed  into 
marriage. 

ALAN.  Rushed?    Why,  I've  known  you  eight  weeks. 

PEGGY.  Yes,  you  had  me  engaged  to  you  before  I  knew 
what  was  happening  to  me. 

ALAN.  Only  way  to  handle  you.  If  you  get  too  much 
time  to  think 

PEGGY.  I'm  going  to  have  a  good  long  think  before  I 
get  married. 

ALAN.  It's  cold,  then.    Good-bye,  darling. 

[He  moves  away.    PEGGY  follows  him. 

PEGGY.  Oh,  be  sensible.    How  can  we  be  married? 

ALAN.  Why,  you  have  a  license  and  a  ring  and  a  min 
ister 

PEGGY.  Yes,  and  money  that  you've  earned,  not  that  you 
get  from  your  father. 

ALAN.  Don't  need  his  money.    I've  got  a  job. 

PEGGY.  What?    What  sort  of  a  job? 

ALAN.  That's  my  secret. 

PEGGY.  Oh,  is  it  so  bad  that  you're  ashamed  of  it? 

ALAN.  Bad  enough  to  pay  me  thirty  dollars  a  week! 

PEGGY.  I  knew  that  you  had  hypnotic  charm  for  women. 
What  did  you  do  to  the  man?  Frighten  him? 

ALAN.  No.    He  used  to  be  my  top  sergeant. 

PEGGY.  Oh,  that  explains  it. 

ALAN.  I  thought  you'd  be  pleased. 

PEGGY.  Did  he  get  himself  a  little  job?  Oh,  darling,  I'm 
only  funning.  I'm  very  proud  of  you. 

ALAN.  Then  you'll  marry  me? 


ACT  n]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  247 

PEGGY.  Can't  we  wait  until 

ALAN.  Look  here.  I  postponed  our  marriage  to  wait  for 
a  family  reunion  that  didn't  "reune."  Then  I  had  to  wait 
until  I  got  a  job.  Well,  I  have  one.  Now  it's  up  to  you. 
If  you  don't  want  to  marry  me,  say  so. 

PEGGY.  I  do,  Alan.  You  know  I  do.  But  I  want  your 
father  and  mother  to  approve.  There  is  a  chance  they 
mightn't  like  me. 

ALAN.  You're  not  marrying  them.  Who  are  you  marry 
ing,  darling? 

PEGGY.   [Mischievously.}  None  of  your  business. 

ALAN.  Just  for  that,  you  sassy  little  devil 

[He  tries  to  take  PEGGY  in  his  arms.  She  dodges 
and  runs  away.  ALAN  catches  her  and  swings  her 
around  into  his  arms.  They  are  laughing  and  strug 
gling,  their  backs  to  the  door  to  the  terrace  at  which 
JEFFREY  appears.  He  stands  amazed  at  what  seems 
to  be  ALAN'S  efforts  to  kiss  a  girl  against  her  will. 
He  frowns  in  annoyance  and  starts  toward  them. 

JEFFREY.  [Sharply.]  Alan! 

ALAN.  [Over  his  shoulder.']  It's  all  right,  dad.  We're 
engaged.  [PEGGY,  who  has  ceased  to  struggle  at  the  sound 
of  JEFFREY'S  voice,  is  kissed  by  ALAN,  then  released.  She 
is  much  embarrassed.  ALAN  crosses  to  JEFFREY,  leading 
PEGGY  by  the  hand.]  Dad,  this  is  Peggy. 

JEFFREY.  Peggy? 

ALAN.  Peggy  Gibbs. 

JEFFREY.  [Coldly]  How  do  you  do,  Miss  Gibbs? 

PEGGY.  Mr.  Fair. 

ALAN.  Well,  dad,  I  suppose  you're  surprised. 

JEFFREY.  [Sarcastically]  Has  the  engagement  just  oc 
curred? 

ALAN.  Oh,  no;  it's  a  month  old. 

JEFFREY.  Really,  Alan,  I 

ALAN.  Dad,  don't  be  hurt  because  we  didn't  tell  you. 

PEGGY.  Alan  didn't  want  to  spoil  his  mother's  home 
coming  by  the  announcement. 


248  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  n 

ALAN.  It  wasn't  my  idea  at  all:  it  was  Peggy's. 

JEFFREY.  Why  should  this  engagement  distress  your 
mother? 

ALAN.  You  see,  dad,  Peggy  is  my  "buddy's"  sister. 

JEFFREY.  Yes? 

PEGGY.  Oh,  Alan,  let  us  be  frank.  [To  JEFFREY.]  It 
annoys  him  when  I  say  it,  but  I'm  not  of  your  class.  I'm 
a  stenographer. 

ALAN.   [Proudly.]  She's  a  private  secretary. 

JEFFREY.  What  is  the  difference? 

PEGGY.  Twenty  dollars  a  week. 

JEFFREY.  Thank  you;  I  deserved  that. 

ALAN.  Well,  Dad,  are  you  for  me  or  "agin"  me? 

JEFFREY.  That  depends. 

ALAN.  On  what? 

PEGGY.  [Hastily.]  On  me.  You  can't  expect  your  father 
to  give  a  snap  judgment  on  a  person  he  has  just  met.  Sup 
pose  you  leave  us  together  so  that  we  can  have  a  little  talk. 

[She  moves  away. 

JEFFREY.  A  very  good  idea. 

[ALAN  goes  to  PEGGY. 

ALAN.  [Whispering.]  Don't  be  nervous,  dear.  Dad's 
aces.  [He  kisses  PEGGY,  then  goes  to  JEFFREY.]  Now,  Dad, 
no  heavy  father  stuff. 

[He  leaves  them. 

JEFFREY.  Won't  you  be  seated? 

PEGGY.  Thank  you. 

[She  sits  on  the  couch.    JEFFREY  brings  a  chair  and 
sits  facing  her.] 

JEFFREY.  Well,  Miss  Gibbs? 

PEGGY.  To  begin  with,  Mr.  Fair,  my  family  and  I  are, 
socially  speaking,  a  total  loss. 

JEFFREY.  In  what  way? 

PEGGY.  My  father  is  the  village  postman.  My  brother  is 
now  in  the  Detective  Bureau,  but  was  a  policeman. 

JEFFREY.  I  see. 


ACT  H]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  249 

PEGGY.  [Drily.]  Yes,  I  thought  you  would.  My  mother 
does  her  own  work,  but  the  weekly  washing  is  sent  out. 

JEFFREY.  Very  interesting,  especially  that  bit  about  the 
laundry. 

PEGGY.  I  graduated  from  High  School,  then  went  to 
Brown's  Business  College.  I  am  now  employed  at  forty 
dollars  a  week  as  a  private  secretary  in  the  office  of  a  firm 
of  lawyers,  O'Brien  and  Rosenweber. 

JEFFREY.  I  know  of  them. 

PEGGY.  I  am  twenty-three  years  old,  quite  healthy,  am 
supposed  to  have  a  good  disposition.  Oh,  there  is  one  thing 
more:  I'm  a  suffragette,  and  while  I  am  not  militant,  I  do 
parade.  I  believe  that  is  all. 

JEFFREY.  And  you  have  Thursdays  off?  My  dear  Miss 
Gibbs,  I'm  not  interviewing  you  as  a  prospective  servant, 
but  as  a  possible  daughter-in-law. 

PEGGY.  Well,  you  wanted  to  know  about  me,  didn't  you? 

JEFFREY.  You  suggested  the  interview.  I  appreciate  that 
it's  a  very  difficult  one  for  you.  It  isn't  exactly  easy  for  me. 
Yet,  if  I  didn't  learn  something  of  the  girl  my  son  wishes 
to  marry,  I  would  be  failing  in  my  duty  as  a  father, 
wouldn't  I? 

PEGGY.  Yes. 

JEFFREY.  Why  are  you  so  on  the  defensive? 

PEGGY.  Possibly  because  I'm  a  little  afraid. 

JEFFREY.  Surely  not  of  me?  Unless  you're  marrying  Alan 
for— 

PEGGY.  For  money  and  this  sort  of  thing?  No!  Not 
that  I  wouldn't  like  it  and  enjoy  it,  but  only  if  Alan  earned 
it.  And  he  will  in  time.  He's  made  a  start.  He  has  a  job. 

JEFFREY.  Why  didn't  he  come  to  me  for  a  position? 

PEGGY.  Oh,  Mr.  Fair,  please  don't  help  him.  That  would 
spoil  all  my  plans. 

JEFFREY.  [Surprised.]  How? 

PEGGY.  It's  better  for  him  to  be  entirely  on  his  own. 

JEFFREY.   [Puzzled.]  Why? 

PEGGY.  The  dear  boy  is  full  of  the  brotherhood  of  man. 


250  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  n 

He  got  that  from  the  trenches,  and  if  he  is  going  to  keep  it, 
it's  necessary  for  him  to  live  simply  for  a  time  at  least. 

JEFFREY.  Sounds  to  me  like  a  very  serious  courtship. 

PEGGY.  Is  anything  more  serious  than  marriage?  I'm 
scared  to  death  of  it. 

JEFFREY.  [Amused.]  Why? 

PEGGY.  I  have  to  give  up  a  great  deal  of  my  liberty  and 
I  want  to  be  sure  it's  worth  it.  Oh,  dear,  life  and  what  to 
do  with  it  and  Alan's  problem  and  mine  seems  so  much 
simpler  on  our  back  veranda.  I  suppose  my  family  are 
right. 

JEFFREY.  [Surprised.]  Doesn't  your  family  approve  of 
the  marriage? 

PEGGY.  Not  at  all. 

JEFFREY.   [Indignantly.]  Well,  I Don't  they  like 

my  son? 

[He  rises. 

PEGGY.   [Smiling.]  I  like  you  for  that. 

JEFFREY.   [Sputtering.]  Well,  I 

PEGGY.  Oh,  they  are  devoted  to  Alan,  but  they  can't  see 
any  happiness  in  the  marriage  for  me.  They're  afraid  that 
the  two  families  won't  harmonise. 

JEFFREY.  That's  true;  they  mightn't.  [There  is  a  slight 
pause.]  It  seems  to  me  you  love  my  son. 

PEGGY.  Very  much. 

JEFFREY.  Then  if  I  were  Alan  and  you  were  you,  I'd 
marry  you  and  say  damn  the  families. 

PEGGY.  Oh,  Mr.  Fair! 

[She  rises  impulsively,  starts  as  though  to  embrace  him, 
catches  herself  and  recedes  a  little.  JEFFREY  follows 
her,  inviting  her  to  embrace  him.  They  laugh. 

JEFFREY.  Now  we  will  put  Alan  out  of  his  misery.  [Calls.] 
Alan!  Come  here,  young  man. 

[ALAN,  who  has  been  in  the  hall  awaiting  the  verdict, 
comes  in  quickly.  He  looks  anxiously  at  JEFFREY. 

ALAN.  Well? 

JEFFREY.  Son,  I  hope  you  appreciate  how  lucky  you  are. 


ACT  n]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  251 

ALAN.  [Joyfully.]  Dad!  [He  goes  quickly  to  PEGGY.] 
Excuse  us. 

[He  kisses  her. 

JEFFREY.  I  could  do  with  one  myself.  [PEGGY  crosses  to 
JEFFREY  and  offers  her  lips  to  him  shyly.  He  kisses  her 
tenderly.]  Now,  young  man,  what  is  this  job? 

ALAN.  It's  with  the  Iverson  Construction  Company. 
Time-keeper. 

JEFFREY.  Well,  you  held  the  interscholastic  record  of 
America  for  wasting  time.  It's  up  to  you  to  keep  a  little. 

ALAN.  Dad,  that's  pretty  awful. 

JEFFREY.  Peggy  smiled. 

ALAN.  Brazen  truckling  to  her  father-in-law. 

SYLVIA.   [Running  in.]  Is  it  all  right? 

JEFFREY.  If  you  mean  Peggy,  she's  very  much  all  right. 

SYLVIA.  [Delightedly.]  Oh,  wait  until  you  know  her. 
Now  I  wish  mother  would  come. 

JEFFREY.  So  she  went  to  the  club  after  all. 

SYLVIA.  Yes.    She  won't  be  long. 

[She  goes  up  to  the  door  to  the  terrace  and  looks  off 
toward  the  entrance  to  the  garden. 

JEFFREY.  [Annoyed.]  Did  she  know  that  Peggy  was 
coming  here  this  afternoon? 

PEGGY.  [Hastily.]  Oh,  yes,  I  met  Mrs.  Fair  and  she 
explained. 

JEFFREY.  Left  you  here.    That's  most  annoying. 

SYLVIA.  Here  is  mother  now. 

[NANCY  hurries  in. 

NANCY.  You  see,  Miss  Gibbs,  I  haven't  been  long.  Oh, 
you  haven't  had  tea.  Sylvia,  dear,  take  mother's  things  and 
tell  them  to  bring  tea  right  in.  [SYLVIA,  taking  NANCY'S 
hat  and  gloves,  runs  out.  NANCY  goes  to  the  telephone  on 
the  table.]  I  must  'phone  to  the  Colony  Club  right  away. 

JEFFREY.   [Irritably.]  Can't  that  wait? 

NANCY.  It's  very  important. 

JEFFREY.  [Severely.]  More  important  than  to  pay  some 
attention  to  the  girl  your  son  is  going  to  marry? 


252  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  11 

[NANCY  looks  at  JEFFREY,  dazed,  then  slowly  turns  her 

regard  upon  PEGGY,  then  on  ALAN. 
NANCY.  Alan,  how  long  have  you  been  engaged? 
ALAN.  Since  the  day  before  you  came  home. 
NANCY.  A  month  ago.    Why  didn't  you  tell  me? 
PEGGY.  I'm  to  blame,  Mrs.  Fair.    I  didn't  want  Alan  to 
tell  you  because  I  feared  it  might  distress  you  and  spoil 
your  home-coming. 

NANCY.  Why  should  it  do  either? 

ALAN.  Peggy's  afraid  that  because  she's  a  stenographer — 

you 

NANCY.  What  right  had  Miss  Gibbs  to  judge  how  I 
would  receive  the  news  of  my  son's  engagement? 

PEGGY.  I  can  see  now  what  I  did  might  be  misjudged, 

but  really  my  motives 

ALAN.  It  isn't  necessary  to  explain  your  motives. 
JEFFREY.  I  can  vouch  for  Peggy. 

ALAN.  Thank  you,  Dad,  but  no  one  needs  to  vouch  for 
her.  The  fact  that  I  am  going  to  marry  her,  that  Sylvia 
loves  her,  and  that  you  approve,  should  be  enough  for 
mother. 

[NANCY  flinches,  but  is  so  shocked  by  the  news  that 
she  says  nothing,  simply  looks  at  ALAN.  Her  eyes 
fill  with  tears,  her  lips  quiver,  and  to  conceal  her 
emotion  she  turns  away  and  goes  to  the  door  to  the 
terrace. 

PEGGY.  Mrs.  Fair,  I  know  what  you  are  thinking — feeling. 
[NANCY  is  silent.  PEGGY,  distressed,  turns  to  JEFFREY.]  It 
is  much  better  that  I  should  go. 

JEFFREY.  Perhaps  it  would  be  as  well.  Alan,  take  Peggy 
to  the  station. 

[ALAN  and  PEGGY  go.  NANCY  turns,  stretches  out  her 
hand  as  if  to  stop  them.  Then,  covering  her  face 
with  her  hands,  she  stands  crying  silently.  JEFFREY, 
ashamed  of  his  outburst,  man-like  takes  refuge  in 
irritation.  He  goes  to  the  table,  picks  up  a  paper  and 


ACT  ii]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  253 

sits,  making  a  pretence  of  reading.    He  waits,  expect 
ing  NANCY  to  speak,  then  breaks  the  silence. 

JEFFREY.  You've  made  a  nice  mess  of  things. 

NANCY.  [Surprised.]  I? 

JEFFREY.  Yes.  If  you  hadn't  been  so  keen  on  publicity, 
all  this  needn't  have  happened. 

NANCY.  [Coming  toward  him.]  Do  you  suppose  if  I  had 
been  told  why  Miss  Gibbs  was  coming  here  that  I  would 
have  allowed  a  stupid  photograph  to  interfere?  Isn't  Alan's 
engagement  something  that  could  have  been  told  me  with 
out  shocking  me,  bewildering  me  so  that Oh,  you've 

made  me  seem  ungracious  to  my  boy.    It  was  wicked,  cruel 
of  you. 

[She  turns  away  and  sits  on  the  couch,  crying. 

JEFFREY.  How  did  I  know  you  were  going  to  take  it  like 
this? 

NANCY.  What  did  you  expect  me  to  do? 

JEFFREY.  Open  your  arms  to  her  as  any  mother  should. 

NANCY.  How  long  have  you  known  of  this  engagement? 

JEFFREY.  Not  until  today. 

NANCY.  And  did  you  welcome  her  with  outstretched  arms 
at  once? 

JEFFREY.  Frankly,  I  was  surprised !  But  after  I  had  had 
a  talk  with  her 

NANCY.  Exactly.  You  had  an  opportunity  to  judge  of 
her  before  you  gave  your  approval,  but  I  am  expected  to 
give  at  once  the  son  I've  loved,  watched  over,  prayed  for, 
to  a  girl  of  whom  I  know  nothing. 

JEFFREY.  I  told  you  I  vouched  for  her. 

[NANCY,  in  a  rage,  springs  to  her  feet. 

NANCY.  What's  that  to  me?    He's  my  son,  too. 

JEFFREY.  That's  jealousy  talking. 

NANCY.  Is  it  strange  that  I  should  be  jealous?  Isn't  it 
hard  for  any  mother  at  first  to  give  her  son  to  another 
woman?  If  Alan  had  had  any  right  feeling  for  me  he  would 
have  told  me  tenderly,  tactfully,  that  he  loved  someone  else 
more  than  me.  Instead,  he  let  you  thrust  the  fact  at  me. 


254  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  n 

I  don't  know  what  I  have  ever  done  that  he  should  have 
told  you,  even  Sylvia,  before  me;  made  me  feel  like  an  out 
sider. 

JEFFREY.  Who  is  to  blame  for  that?  You  put  yourself 
outside  your  home.  You  can't  hope  to  receive  Alan's  confi 
dence  if  you  are  never  here  to  get  it.  You  can't  go  on 
neglecting  your  family 

NANCY.  [Indignantly.]  What?  I  give  up  everybody  and 
everything  belonging  to  me  and  endure  privations,  horrors, 
because  I  think  it's  my  greatest  duty,  and  then  I  am  neg 
lecting  my  family!  [Bitterly.]  My  family  seems  to  have 
gotten  along  very  well  without  me.  Ever  since  I  came  home 
you  and  Alan  have  resented  everything  I've  done. 

JEFFREY.  We  don't  approve  of  what  you've  been  doing. 
[He  rises  and  begins  to  pace  up  and  down. 

NANCY.  [Scornfully.]  Approve!  Must  I  secure  the  ap 
proval  of  my  husband  and  my  son  for  what  I  think  best 
to  do? 

JEFFREY.  Your  desire  to  appear  in  public,  for  instance? 

NANCY.  [Very  calmly.]  If  you  had  been  overseas  and 
had  been  urged  to  appear  in  public,  would  you  have  had  to 
ask  my  approval?  No.  It  would  have  been  the  perfectly 
natural  thing  for  you  to  do. 

JEFFREY.  It's  not  the  same  thing. 

NANCY.  Because  I'm  a  woman.  Well,  this  war  has  settled 
one  thing  definitely.  A  woman's  work  counts  for  just  as 
much  as  a  man's  and  she  is  entitled  to  all  the  rewards  it 
brings  her. 

[Her  calmness  maddens  JEFFREY.     He  advances  on 
her  furiously. 

JEFFREY.  You've  done  your  duty  by  your  country,  but, 
by  God,  you're  capitalising  it. 

NANCY.  [Turning  upon  him.]  Jeffrey? 

JEFFREY.  Ever  since  you've  been  home  you've  thought  of 
everything  but  your  duty  to  your  family.  All  you  think  of 
is  your  appearance  at  public  functions,  getting  your  name 
and  photograph  in  print.  Can  you  deny  that  you  are  eager 


ACT  n]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  255 

to  sign  that  contract  so  that  you  can  make  a  triumphant 
tour  of  the  country,  telling  the  great  American  public  how 
you  helped  win  the  war?  Well,  you'll  put  an  end  to  all  this 
publicity.  You'll  stop  all  these  ridiculous  lectures.  You'll 
tear  up  that  contract.  You'll  give  up  this  tour  and  remain 
here  where  you  belong. 

NANCY.  [Very  quietly.]  And  why  must  I  do  all  this? 
Why  must  I  remain  here  where  I  belong? 

JEFFREY.   [Emphatically.]  Because  I  am  your  husband 
and  I  forbid  you  to  go. 

[They  look  at  each  other  for  an  instant  in  silence. 
JEFFREY,  feeling  that  he  is  master  of  the  situation, 
walks  slowly  away  and  stands  at  the  fireplace,  his 
back  toward  NANCY,  who  smiles  satirically,  then  goes 
quietly  to  the  table.  She  sits,  draws  the  contract, 
which  is  on  the  table,  to  her,  and  signs  it.  At  the 
sound  of  the  scratching  of  her  pen  JEFFREY  turns 
quickly.  He  crumples  the  folded  newspaper  in  his 
hand  and  throws  it  irritably  on  the  chair.  NANCY 
rises.  They  are  standing  facing  each  other  in  de 
fiance  as  the  CURTAIN  FALLS. 


THE  THIRD  ACT 

The  sitting-room  of  JEFFREY  FAIR'S  apartment  in  a  New 
York  hotel.  The  decorations,  furnishings  and  appoint 
ments  are  tasteful,  luxurious  and  characteristic  of  a 
modern  "smart"  hotel.  On  the  left  are  double  doors 
to  the  private  hall  and  a  door  to  a  bedroom;  at  the  back 
is  a  large  window  and  at  the  right  a  fireplace  and  a 
door  to  another  bedroom.  A  console  table  with  a  mir 
ror  over  it  stands  against  the  right  wall  below  the  fire 
place,  in  front  of  which  is  a  Law  son  sofa.  On  the 
opposite  side  of  the  room  is  a  writing  desk,  near  the 
window  a  small  table  with  a  telephone,  and  in  the  centre 
an  oval  table  to  the  left  of  which  is  an  arm-chair. 
There  is  a  small  chair  in  front  of  the  desk,  another  at 
the  window  and  a  third  at  the  back  of  the  centre  table. 

There  are  no  photographs,  books  nor  flowers;  in  fact,  there 
is  a  noticeable  lack  of  any  attempt  to  create  a  home 
like  atmosphere,  and,  although  the  room  is  brilliantly 
lighted,  the  curtains  drawn  and  a  fire  in  the  grate,  the 
effect  is  one  of  dreariness  in  contrast  to  the  charm  in 
the  environment  in  the  preceding  acts.  It  is  an  even 
ing  in  October. 

As  the  curtain  rises  JEFFREY  enters  from  the  door  at  the 
right  of  the  room.  He  wears  informal  evening  dress 
and  carries  an  overcoat  and  a  hat  which  he  places  on 
the  sofa.  Then  going  to  the  doors  to  the  hall  he  opens 
them,  showing  across  the  hall  a  door,  on  which  he 
knocks.  There  is  a  slight  pause  and  he  knocks  again, 
calling  "Sylvia."  There  is  no  response.  He  opens  the1 
door,  looks  into  the  room,  then  closing  the  door  returns 
and  goes  to  the  telephone. 
256 


ACT  in]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  257 

JEFFREY.  Give  me  the  desk,  please.  [A  pause.]  Is  this 
the  desk?  This  is  Mr.  Fair  speaking.  Are  you  quite  sure 
my  daughter  did  not  leave  a  note  for  Mrs.  Fair?  If  you 
find  one  send  it  up.  By  the  way,  what  is  the  correct  time? 
Nine  twenty- three.  Thank  you. 

[JEFFREY  sets  his  watch,  then  takes  a  cigarette,  lights 
it  and  sits  on  the  couch.  His  attitude  is  one  of  deep 
dejection.  There  is  a  slight  pause,  then  ALAN  en 
ters  from  the  room  at  the  right. 

JEFFREY.   [Turning  to  him.}  Well,  son? 

ALAN.  [Happily.]  It's  all  right. 

JEFFREY.  Made  it  up  with  your  mother?  [ALAN  nods.] 
That's  fine.  Did  she  mention  Mrs.  Fair,  Jr.? 

ALAN.  Yes.    She    inquired    very    cordially    for    Peggy. 

[He  sits. 

JEFFREY.  Did  she  accept  Peggy's  invitation  for  dinner? 

ALAN.  She  couldn't.  Her  secretary  reminded  her  that 
she  was  to  be  the  guest  of  honour  at  some  banquet  or  other. 

JEFFREY.  [Satirically.]  I  suppose  that's  why  she  came 
home. 

ALAN.  Why  wasn't  Sylvia  here  to  meet  mother? 

JEFFREY.  She  wasn't  expected  until  the  day  after  to 
morrow  and  Sylvia  had  made  a  dinner  engagement  that 
she  didn't  care  to  break. 

ALAN.  That's  queer.    I  wonder  if  they've  had  a  quarrel? 

JEFFREY.  What  gave  you  that  idea? 

ALAN.  Well,  Peggy  and  I  have  never  been  able  to  get 
anything  out  of  Sylvia  as  to  why  she  remained  only  a 
month  on  tour  with  mother. 

JEFFREY.  I  can  understand  just  what  happened.  Her 
mother  was  entertained  a  great  deal.  That  was  part  of 
the  game  of  being  the  famous  Mrs.  Fair.  It  wasn't  pos 
sible  to  include  Sylvia  in  all  of  the  functions.  Naturally 
she  was  bored.  So  she  came  home. 

ALAN.  Considering  they  haven't  seen  each  other  for  two 
months  and  that  this  is  mother's  first  night  at  home,  it  is 
very  selfish  of  Sylvia  not  to  give  up  one  party. 


258  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAltf  [ACT  m 

JEFFREY.  [Irritably.]  Sylvia's  had  to  make  her  life  with 
out  her  mother  and  can't  be  expected  to  drop  everything 
whenever  she  chooses  to  appear  on  the  scene. 

ALAN.  All  right,  Dad,  all  right.  You  are  so  touchy  about 
Sylvia. 

JEFFREY.  You've  shown  a  disposition  of  late  to  criticise 
your  sister,  and  I  don't  like  it. 

ALAN.  Don't  let  us  scrap  about  Sylvia.  I'm  sorry  if  I 
have  seemed  unkind.  But  you  know,  Dad,  you  are  spoil 
ing  her. 

JEFFREY.  Oh,  Hell,  why  not?  A  man's  got  to  have  some 
woman  to  spoil.  Sylvia's  sweet  and  loving  to  me.  I  was 
mighty  glad  to  have  her  home  again.  It  would  have  been 
a  damn  sight  better  for  me  if  I  had  never  let  her  go  away. 

ALAN.  Now  with  mother  at  home,  I  suppose  you'll  give 
up  these  rooms  and  go  back  to  the  country? 

JEFFREY.  She's  going  on  another  tour. 

[He  rises  and  begins  to  walk  about  the  room  restlessly. 

ALAN.  I  am  disappointed.     Damn  Gillette. 

JEFFREY.  It  isn't  his  fault. 

ALAN.   [Surprised.]  You're  not  sticking  up  for  him? 

JEFFREY.  He's  not  a  bad  sort  when  you  get  to  know 
him. 

ALAN.  You  don't  like  him? 

JEFFREY.  No.  But  I  no  longer  hold  him  responsible  for 
your  mother  going  lecturing.  If  it  hadn't  been  he  it  would 
have  been  some  other  manager. 

ALAN.  Gillette's  around  here  a  good  deal,  isn't  he? 

JEFFREY.  Yes.  [Bitterly.]  I  wouldn't  deprive  Sylvia 
from  seeing  a  man  who  knows  a  damn  sight  better  what 
her  mother's  doing  than  I  do. 

[He  sits  behind. 

ALAN.  Sylvia  is  around  with  Gillette  and  his  crowd  a  lot, 
isn't  she? 

JEFFREY.  Yes,  he's  been  very  kind  to  her.  He's  intro 
duced  her  to  his  friends. 

ALAN.  You've  met  them? 


'ACT  "in]'         !THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  259 

JEFFREY.  Casually. 

ALAN.  Dancing  a  good  deal,  isn't  she? 

JEFFREY.  Everybody  does.  Keeps  good  hours,  always 
tells  me  where  she's  going. 

ALAN.  Where  is  she  tonight? 

JEFFREY.  I  ought  to  know.  I  don't  remember.  \D& 
fiantly.]  Why? 

ALAN.  [Apologetically.']  Oh,  nothing.  It's  getting  late 
and  I  wondered  if  I  would  see  her  before  I  go  home. 

JEFFREY.  [Smiling.]  She'll  come  toddling  in  soon,  bless 
her.  I  hope  she's  had  a  good  time. 

ALAN.  By  the  way,  what's  become  of  Angy  Brice?  Syl 
via  never  mentions  her. 

JEFFREY.  [Slightly  confused.]  She  hasn't  seen  Mrs. 
Brice.  Don't  you  remember  I  had  this  place  ready  for 
Sylvia  when  she  came  home?  I  thought  she'd  find  the 
country  dull  without  her  mother. 

[Slightly  embarrassed,  he  picks  up  a  magazine,  turns 
over  its  leaves.  ALAN  watches  him  narrowly  as 
JEFFREY  replies  to  his  questions. 

ALAN.  [Casually.]  Hasn't  Mrs.  Brice  been  in  town? 

JEFFREY.  Yes. 

ALAN.  Have  you  seen  her? 

JEFFREY.  [Carelessly.]  Occasionally. 

ALAN.  Odd  Sylvia  hasn't  looked  her  up.  They  used  to 
be  such  great  pals. 

JEFFREY.  Angy's  too  old  for  Sylvia,  and  Sylvia's  made 
new  friends. 

ALAN.  [Disarmed.]  When  mother  goes,  Peggy  and  I 
must  see  Sylvia  oftener.  I'm  afraid  we've  been  rather 
selfish. 

JEFFREY.  Every  newly  married  couple  has  that  right. 
My  boy,  if  your  wife  wants  to  associate  with  you,  don't 
discourage  her. 

ALAN.  Peggy  works  all  day.  I  study  all  evening,  so  we 
don't  have  time  to  get  bored  with  each  other. 

JEFFREY.  I  wish  Peggy  would  give  up  her  job.     What 


260  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  HI 

the  devil's  the  good  of  all  my  money?    I  can't  spend  it  all 
on  Sylvia. 

ALAN.  Well,  dad,  if  a  wife  wants  to  work  these  days, 
you  have  to  let  her. 

JEFFREY.  Yes,  but  sometimes  I  wonder  in  this  modern 
scheme  of  things  where  in  hell  the  husband  belongs. 

ALAN.  Why  don't  you  put  up  an  argument  about  this 
new  tour? 

JEFFREY.  I  put  up  a  good  one  once,  but  she  went,  didn't 
she?  No,  son. 

ALAN.  [Eagerly.]     Perhaps  if  I  talked  to  her 

JEFFREY.  [Rising.]  Don't  you  complicate  things  with 
her  by  trying  to  force  anything  for  me.  Let  me  give  you 
a  bit  of  advice.  Never  try  to  play  God  for  your  family. 
You  only  raise  the  devil. 

ALAN.  Very  well,  dad,  you  know  best. 

JEFFREY.  [Ruefully.]  Son,  I  don't  know  anything,  any 
more.  Don't  you  worry  about  me.  So  long  as  I  have 
Sylvia  I  can  stagger  along. 

[He  crosses  and  gets  his  hat  and  coat. 

ALAN.  [Surprised.]  Are  you  going  out? 

JEFFREY.  Yes. 

ALAN.  [Rising.]  But  mother? 

JEFFREY.  I  wouldn't  dream  of  intruding.  She  took  great 
pains  to  tell  me  at  dinner  that  she  had  a  stack  of  mail  wait 
ing  for  her  a  mile  high.  Can  I  drop  you  at  the  subway? 

ALAN.  I'm  not  going  home.  Peggy's  at  the  office  tonight, 
working  on  an  important  case.  I'm  going  to  call  for  her. 
Anyway  I  think  I'll  leave  a  little  line  for  Sylvia. 

JEFFREY.  [Pleased.]  Fine!     Good  night. 

ALAN.  Good  night. 

JEFFREY.  Give  my  love  to  Peggy.  [He  turns  to  leave 
the  room,  stops,  hesitates,  turns  to  ALAN.]  Tell  her  if  she 
wants  me  tomorrow  night,  I'd  be  very  glad  to  come. 

ALAN.  [Going  to  him  quickly.]  Why,  Dad,  we  always 
want  you. 


ACT  m]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  261 

[JEFFREY  takes  ALAN'S  outstretched  hand,  puts  his 

arm  around  his  shoulder. 
JEFFREY.  [Smiling, ,]  Good  night. 

[He  goes.  ALAN  watches  him.  His  lips  quiver;  there 
are  tears  in  his  eyes.  He  brushes  them  away  and  is 
starting  towards  the  desk,  when  from  the  door  at  the 
left  of  the  room  NANCY  enters.  She  wears  a  simple 
evening  gown. 

NANCY.  Oh,  Alan,  I'm  so  glad  you  haven't  gone.  I  have 
been  thinking  it  over  and  I'm  not  going  to  that  boring 
banquet.  I'm  going  to  dine  with  you  instead. 

ALAN.  That's  bully  of  you,  mother.  But  it  isn't  neces 
sary.  You  can  come  another  night. 

NANCY.  No,  no.  I  insist.  I  want  to  telephone  your 
wife  now. 

ALAN.  Peggy's  not  at  home.  She's  at  the  office  tonight. 
I'm  going  down  to  fetch  her. 

NANCY.  I've  a  nice  idea.    I  wonder  if  she  would  be  too 
tired  to  drop  in  on  the  way  home. 
ALAN.  [Surprised.]  Tonight? 

NANCY.  It's  early,  and  [shyly]  if  Peggy  is  willing,  I'd 
love  to  kiss  and  make  up. 
ALAN.  Mother! 

[He  goes  quickly  to  NANCY  and  takes  her  in  his 
arms.  She  begins  to  cry.  He  kisses  her  and  soothes 
her. 

NANCY.  My  boy,  my  boy! 

ALAN.  [Very  much  affected.]  There — there — mother. 
NANCY.  Alan,  promise  me  you'll  never  be  on  the  "outs" 
with  me  again? 
ALAN.  I  won't.    I  won't. 
NANCY.  It's  almost  made  an  old  woman  of  me. 
ALAN.  It's  been  tough  on  me.    I  was  wrong. 
NANCY.  No,  no,  I  was  to  blame. 
ALAN.  I  won't  stand  for  that. 

NANCY.  Oh,  my  dear,  it  doesn't  matter  who  was  wrong, 
so  that  it's  all  right  now. 


262  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  in 

ALAN.  You  bet  it  is,  but — but 

NANCY.  We  won't  spoil  this  by  any  post*  mortems.    [She 
kisses  him.]     Did  you  see  your  father? 
ALAN.  Yes. 
NANCY.  Where  is  he? 
ALAN.  He  went  out. 
NANCY.  [Disappointedly.]  Oh! 
ALAN.  He  thought  you  were  too  busy  to  be  disturbed. 
NANCY.  I  sent  my  secretary  away,  but  it  doesn't  matter. 
ALAN.  I  must  go  for  Peggy.     She'll  be  on  her  ear. 
NANCY.  Don't  you  think  you   had  better  rescue  her? 
Now  hurry  right  back.     Oh,  Alan,  I  have  something  for 
her  and  I  want  you  to  see  if  you  think  she  will  like  it. 
[Tenderly.]     I'm  going  to  see  you  and  Peggy  very  often 
before  I  go  away  again. 
ALAN.  When  do  you  go? 

NANCY.  I  don't  know  ju'st  what  arrangements  Mr.  Gil 
lette  has  made.  He  is  coming  to  see  me  about  them-  to 
night. 

ALAN.  Mother,  do  you  think  you  ought1  to  go?  I — mean 
— ought  to  come  to  us  instead  of  to  that  banquet?' 

NANCY.  That's  all  settled.  I  put  them  on  the  trail  of 
another  celebrity. 

[She  laughs  and  goes  into  her  room.     ALAN  is  smil 
ing  happily,  humming  a  little  tune  when  the  dolors  to 
the  hall  open  and  SYLVIA  enters.    She  is  completely 
transformed.    In  dress,  coiffure  and  manner,  she  is 
the  modern  "cutie."    Her  face  is  rouged,  her  lips 
painted.     On  her' head  at  a  rakish  angle  is  an  ermine 
toque  and  wrapped  about  her  throat  is  an  ermine 
stole.    She  saunters  over  to  the  mirror  at  the  right, 
greeting  ALAN  as  she  passes  him. 
SYLVIA.  [Indifferently.]  Hello,  Alan. 
ALAN.  Hello,  Sylvia. 
SYLVIA.  Mother  here  yet? 
ALAN.  Yes. 
SYLVIA.  ["Primping."]  What  about  friend  wife? 


ACT  in]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  2G3 

ALAN.  It's  all  right.     [Indignantly.]     Why  weren't  you 
here  to  meet  mother? 

SYLVIA.  [Carelessly.]  I  had  a  very  special  date. 
ALAN.  [Disgustedly.]  With  that  Gillette,  I  suppose. 
SYLVIA.  That's  my  affair. 

ALAN.  How  you  or  anyone  else  can 

SYLVIA.  [Crossly.]  Alan  Fair,  don't  you  dare  to  knock 
Gillie.     You  don't  like  him — I  do. 

[Enter  NANCY  smiling  happily.  She  sees  SYLVIA  and 
is  so  shocked  by  the  change  in  her  appearance  that 
she  stops  speechless.  The  little  jewelry  box  that  she 
is  carrying  falls  from  her  head.  SYLVIA,  quite  obliv 
ious  of  the  effect  she  has  made  on  NANCY,  runs 
towards  her. 
SYLVIA.  Oh,  hello,  mother. 

[NANCY     cannot     speak.     SYLVIA     surprised,     stops \ 

There  is  a  slight  pause. 

NANCY.    [Inarticulately.]       Sylvia!       [Heartbrokenly.] 
Sylvia!     Sylvia! 

[She  rushes  to  SYLVIA,  folds  her  in  her  arms,  kiss 
ing  her  frantically.  SYLVIA  is  happy,  but  rather 
puzzled. 

SYLVIA.  I  was  awfully  sorry  not  to  be  here.    You  got 
my  note? 
NANCY.  No. 

SYLVIA.  Isn't  that  the  limit?     I  gave  it  to  the  clerk  my 
self.     I'll  just  ask  him  "what's  the  idea."      [She   turns 
toward  the  telephone,  and  sees  a  hat  box  on  the  table.] 
Oh,  the  darn  thing  came  at  last.     [She  opens  the  box  and 
takes  out  a  "freakish"  hat.]     I  was  going  to  wear  this  to 
night.     [She  holds  it  up  admiringly.]     Isn't  that  a  sweetie? 
ALAN.  [Disgustedly.]  Where  did  you  get  it? 
SYLVIA.  [Going    to    the    mirror.]  At    Francine's.      She 
makes  for  all  the  smart  chorus  girls.     [She  puts  it  on,  then 
strikes  a  pose.]     How  do  I  look? 
ALAN.  Just  like  a  movie  "cutie.5> 
NANCY.  [Reprovingly.]  Alan! 


264  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  HI 

SYLVIA.  Oh,    mother,    don't    mind    Alan.     He's    always 
knocking  my  taste  in  clothes. 

[She  is  furious,  and,  snatching  the  hat  off  her  head, 
throws  it  into  the  box  and  tosses  it  into  a  corner  of 
the  room.    As  she  turns  away,  NANCY,  who  has  been 
watching  her  in  amazement,  goes  to  ALAN. 
NANCY.  Oh,  what  have  you  all  done  to  her? 
ALAN.  It  isn't  our  fault. 

NANCY.  No,   it's  mine.     [A   slight  pause.]     Alan,  say 
good  night  to  your  sister. 
SYLVIA.  Where's  daddy? 
ALAN.  He's  gone  out.     Mad? 
SYLVIA.  [Kissing  him.]  Not  so  you'd  notice  it. 
ALAN.  See  you  later,  mother. 

[He  goes. 

NANCY.  Well,  darling,  glad  to  have  your  mother  home 
again? 

SYLVIA.  Believe  me,  I  am. 

[She  is  wearing  her  hair  in  exaggerated  curves  over 
her  ears.  NANCY  puts  her  hands  on  either  side  of 
SYLVIA'S  face  and  pushes  the  hair  gently  off  her 
cheeks. 

NANCY.  Why  do  you  wear  your  hair  like  that? 
SYLVIA.  Everyone  in  my  crowd  does. 
NANCY.  Come  and  sit  down.    I  want  to  know  all  that 
you've  been  doing. 

SYLVIA.  I  wrote  to  you. 
NANCY.  Not  so  often  lately. 

SYLVIA.  [Resentfully.]  With  somethin*  doin'  every  min 
ute  I  didn't  have  the  time. 

NANCY.  [Quickly.]  I'm   not   reproaching  you,    darling. 
Let's  have  a  nice  snuggly  time. 

[She  sits  in  the  arm-chair,  taking  SYLVIA  on  her  lap. 
Then  drawing  SYLVIA'S  head  down  on  her  shoulder, 
puts  her  arms  about  her,  kisses  her.    SYLVIA  begins 
to  cry. 
SYLVIA.  My,  I've  missed  this. 


ACT  m]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  265 

NANCY.  [Very  much  affected.]  So  have  I,  dear. 

[She  takes  her  handkerchief  and  wipes  SYLVIA'S  eyes 
and  at  the  same  time  seizes  the  opportunity  to  remove 
a  little  of  the  rouge  from  SYLVIA'S  face  and  lips. 

NANCY.  Now  let's  begin  at  the  beginning. 

SYLVIA.  Let's  skip  the  beginning.     It  was  horrid. 

NANCY.  [Surprised.]  In  what  way,  dear? 

SYLVIA.  I  was  so  lonesome. 

NANCY.  As  soon  as  I  knew  you  were  to  be  at  this  hotel, 
instead  of  at  home  I  wired  to  Bridget  Wynne.  Didn't  she 
look  you  up? 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  all  the  women  came  once.  Mrs.  Wynne  gave 
me  a  luncheon  and  a  box  party  and  asked  all  the  girls  in 
our  set.  It  was  a  perfect  lemon. 

NANCY.  How? 

SYLVIA.  For  all  the  attention  they  gave  to  me  I  might 
as  well  not  have  been  there. 

NANCY.  Why  should  they  be  rude  to  you? 

SYLVIA.  They  didn't  mean  to  be.  I  didn't  know  all  the 
little  intimate  things  they  talked  about.  One  girl's  mother 
was  doing  this  for  her,  and  another  one's  mother  was  doing 
that — anyway  I  felt  like  an  outsider  in  what  should  have 
been  my  own  crowd.  When  I  got  home  I  just  bawled  my 
head  off,  and  daddy  said  we  wouldn't  bother  with  any  of 
them  again,  but  it  was  pretty  awful  especially  as  I  didn't 
have  Angy  to  fall  back  on. 

NANCY.  No? 

SYLVIA.  Daddy  said  you  didn't  like  me  to  be  intimate 
with  her. 

NANCY.  I  see.     Haven't  you  seen  Alan  and  Peggy? 

SYLVIA.  It's  terribly  dull  at  their  flat.  They  are  so 
crazy  about  each  other  that  half  the  time  they  don't  know 
you're  around. 

[They  laugh. 

NANCY.  Didn't  father  go  about  with  you? 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  yes,  daddy's  a  darling,  but  he  is  old.  Gil 
lie's  been  my  life  saver. 


266  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  in 

NANCY.  [Mystified.]  Who  is  Gillie? 

SYLVIA.  Mr.  Gillette.  He  took  me  to  a  tea  one  day  at 
a  dancing  place  and  introduced  me  to  his  friends.  When 
he  found  I  liked  them,  he  said,  "Sylvia,  this  little  old  town 
is  yours.  We'll  take  it  all  apart  and  see  what  makes  it 
tick." 

NANCY.  That  doesn't  sound  like  Mr.  Gillette. 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  he  puts  on  his  grand  manners  with  you. 
You  don't  know  the  real  Gillie. 

NANCY.  [Thoughtfully.']  No,  I  don't  believe  I  do.  [A 
slight  pause.]  Who  are  these  friends? 

SYLVIA.  I  don't  know.    Just  New  Yorkers. 

NANCY.  Has  your  father  met  them? 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  yes. 

NANCY.  Has  he  gone  around  with  you? 

SYLVIA.  Not  to  the  lively  parties. 

NANCY.  [Shocked.]  My  dear,  who  chaperoned  you? 

SYLVIA.  A  woman  pal  of  Gillie's. 

NANCY.  Is  she  a  married  woman? 

SYLVIA.  [Giggling.]  Is  she?     Three  times. 

NANCY.  How  awful! 

SYLVIA.  [Protestingly.]  She's  terribly  nice.  You  must 
know  her.  So  sweet  to  me.  Takes  me  motoring  in  the 
park  almost  every  afternoon. 

NANCY.  Where  did  you  meet  her,  dear? 

SYLVIA.  At  a  party  at  "The  Drowsy  Saint." 

NANCY.  Where's  that? 

SYLVIA.  It's  a  new  freak  place  in  the  village. 

NANCY.  Who  took  you  there? 

SYLVIA.  Gillie.  He's  a  sweetie  lamb,  and  so  generous. 
He  spends  money  like  water. 

NANCY.  [Puzzled.]  He  does? 

SYLVIA.  Yes,  he's  taken  me  on  parties  to  all  the  cabarets, 
V  everywhere. 

NANCY.  Does  your  father  know  that  you  go  to  these 
places? 

SYLVIA.  Sure. 


ACT  in]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  267 

NANCY.  He  never  objects? 

SYLVIA.  Why  should  he  when  you  go  with  your  own 
crowd,  there's  no  harm  in  them,  is  there? 

NANCY.  They  are  not  exactly  the  places  for  a  girl  who 
has  been  brought  up  as  you  have  been.  Is  Mr.  Gillette 
always  your  escort  to  these  parties? 

SYLVIA.  [Smiling.']  He's  my  "gentleman  friend." 

NANCY.  He  doesn't  make  love  to  you? 

SYLVIA.  [Giggling.]  No,  but  I  guess  he'd  like  to. 

NANCY.  Darling,  you  mustn't  say  such  things.  It  isn't 
nice. 

SYLVIA.  [Sulkily.]  Why  not? 

NANCY.  Well,  nice  girls  don't, — that's  all. 

SYLVIA.  [Resent jully.~\  What  else  don't  they  do? 

NANCY.  [Hesitatingly.]  Well,  dear,  they  don't  go  to  the 
places  you  have  been  going,  and  they  don't  use  rouge,  or 
wear  hats  from  Francine's. 

SYLVIA.  All  the  women  in  my  crowd  do. 

NANCY.  Then  I  think  you're  going  with  the  wrong 
crowd. 

SYLVIA.  [Indignantly.]  How  do  you  know?  You've 
never  seen  any  of  them.  They  may  not  belong,  but  they 
know  how  to  be  kind. 

NANCY.  Sylvia,  I'm  sorry,  I  don't  mean  to  criticise 

SYLVIA.  [Rising*  in  a  jury  of  rage.]  But  you  are,  you 
are!  Daddy  is  the  only  one  that  never  finds  fault  with 
me.  He's  the  only  one  that  loves  me  really. 

[NANCY,  horrified  at  the  implication  that  she  does  not 
love  SYLVIA,  rises  quickly,  grasps  her  in  her  arms, 
and  almost  roughly  places  her  hand  over  SYLVIA'S 
mouth.  She  stands  there  crucified  by  the  realisa 
tion  of  the  fact  that  she  has  apparently  lost  the  love 
of  her  child. 

NANCY.  Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear, — never-  say  that  to  me 
again.  [She  pauses  a  moment,  then  very  tenderly.]  It 
isn't  always  kind  to  allow  you  to  do  just  as  you  please. 


268  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  m 

SYLVIA.  [Sullenly.']  Doesn't  everyone  else  in  this  fam 
ily  do  as  they  darn  please? 

NANCY.  [Hopelessly.']  Yes,  I  suppose  we  do. 

[There  is  a  slight  pause.  SYLVIA  looks  defiantly  at 
NANCY,  who  moves  slowly  across  to  the  fireplace 
where  she  stands,  her  elbows  resting  on  the  mantel 
piece,  her  face  buried  in  her  hands.  The  telephone 
bell  rings  sharply.  SYLVIA  turns  quickly  to  an 
swer  it. 

SYLVIA.  Yes.  [Turning  to  NANCY.]  Dudley's  down 
stairs.  If  you  don't  want  to  be  bothered  I  can  see  him 
in  the  lounge. 

NANCY.  Ask  him  to  come  up. 

SYLVIA.  Have  Mr.  Gillette  come  right  up.  [To  NANCY.] 
Were  you  expecting  him? 

NANCY.  Yes,  he's  coming  to  talk  to  me  on  business. 
SYLVIA.  I  want  to  talk  to  him  too,  but  I  hadn't  better 
butt  in  on  your  party. 

NANCY.  It  won't  interfere,  dear. 
SYLVIA.  I've  a  message  for  Gillie  from  the  bunch. 
NANCY.  Can't  you  give  it  to  Mr.  Gillette  now? 
SYLVIA.  [Defiantly.]  Any  objection  to  my  seeing  him 
alone? 

NANCY.  Why,  none  at  all,  dear;  I'll  let  you  know  as 
soon  as  we  have  finished. 

[The  buzzer  at  the  double  door  sounds. 
SYLVIA.  Come  in.     [GILLETTE  enters.]     Oh,  there  you 
are.     I  thought  you  were  going  with  us  to  dinner  tonight. 
[GILLETTE,  who  has  entered  smilingly,  frowns  in  an 
noyance  at  SYLVIA,  and  motions  her  to  silence;  then 
smiling  suavely,  advances  toward  NANCY. 
GILLETTE.  Good  evening,  Mrs.  Fair.     It's  a  very  great 
pleasure  to  see  you  again. 

[NANCY  acknowledges  GILLETTE'S  greeting  coldly. 
SYLVIA.  Mother,  when  you're  through  with  Gillie,  have 
them  page  me  in  the  lounge.    I'll  go  down  and  hear  a  little 
jazz. 


ACT  in]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  269 

[She   smiles   sweetly   at    GILLETTE,   who    turns   and 
smiles  at  her.    She  starts  towards  the  door  into  the 
hall.    NANCY  crosses  quickly  to  her. 
NANCY.  No,  Sylvia,  you  will  wait  in  my  room,  please. 
[SYLVIA  turns  angrily,  looks  at  NANCY;    there  is  a 
brief  clash  of  wills,  then  SYLVIA  goes  into  NANCY'S 
room,  slamming  the  door.    NANCY  sinks  wearily  into 
the  chair  and  sits  staring  before  her,  lost  in  thought. 
GILLETTE  places  his  hat,  cane  and  gloves  on  the  sofa, 
then  approaches  NANCY. 

GILLETTE.  [Effusively.]  Mrs.  Fair,  I  must  congratulate 
you  on  the  success  of  your  tour.  It  was  phenomenal.  I 
am  proud  to  have  had  the  privilege  of  presenting  you  to 
the  American  public.  [NANCY  makes  no  reply.  GILLETTE 
looks  at  her  in  surprise.]  I  trust  that  you  have  found  it 
agreeable  to  appear  under  my  management.  [There  is  no 
response  and  GILLETTE  looks  at  her  again.]  I  hope  our 
association  will  continue.  IVe  secured  even  better  terms 
for  the  new  tour. 

[He  sits. 

NANCY.  I  am  not  going  on  another  tour. 
GILLETTE.  [Astounded.]  You    are    not    going    on — but 
Mrs.  Fair,  all  the  arrangements  have  been  made. 
NANCY.  They  will  have  to  be  cancelled. 
GILLETTE.  But  you  agreed  to  it  by  letter.    You  'phoned 
me  to  bring  these  contracts  tonight. 

NANCY.  Things  have  occurred  that  have  made  me  change 
my  mind. 

GILLETTE.  Are  you  dissatisfied  with  me? 
NANCY.  No.     But  I  can't  go  on. 
GILLETTE.  You  can't  mean  that  you  are  going  to  give 
up  all  your  triumphs. 
NANCY.  [Satirically.]     "Triumphs!" 
GILLETTE.  Why,  Mrs.   Fair,  I  am  leaving  tonight  for 
Montreal  to  arrange  for  your  appearance  in  Canada.    The 
people  in  the  East  haven't  heard  you  talk  of  your  great 
work. 


270  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  in 

NANCY.  Mr.  Gillette,  there  is  nothing  that  could  induce 
me  to  talk  of  my  great  work  again.  [A  pause.]  I  will 
be  very  much  obliged  if  you  will  bring  me  an  accounting 
tomorrow. 

GILLETTE.  [Nervously.]    Tomorrow?    [He  rises  quickly. 

NANCY.  Yes.  I  think  there  is  about  fifteen  thousand 
dollars  due. 

GILLETTE.  [Stammering.]  Why — why — I  won't  be  able 
to  make  a  settlement  tomorrow.  It  will  take  the  book 
keeper  several  days  to  make  out  a  statement. 

NANCY.  Let  me  have  it  as  soon  as  possible,  as  I  am  going 
to  re-open  our  house  in  the  country.  And  now  I  believe 
Sylvia  has  some  message  for  you.  I  will  send  her  in  and 
you  can  say  good-bye  to  'her. 

[She  rises  and  goes  to  the  door  to  her  room. 

GILLETTE.  [Astonished.]  Good-bye? 

NANCY.  [Turning  to  him.]  I  think  it  wiser.  Sylvia  has 
been  telling  me  of  your  kindness  to  her.  I  don't  wish  to 
seem  ungrateful,  but  I  would  rather  you  did  not  see  her 
again,  at  least  for  the  present. 

GILLETTE.  [Angrily.]  Are  you  insinuating  that  I  am  not 
good  enough  to  associate  with  your  daughter? 

NANCY.  I  never  insinuate,  Mr.  Gillette.  If  I  must  speak 
more  plainly,  I  will,  and  I  hope  you  will  not  resent  it. 

GILLETTE.  [Rudely.]  Well 

NANCY.  Sylvia's  story  of  her  friendship  with  you  has 
made  me  realise  that  you  and  I  have  rather  different  stand 
ards  as  to  the  sort  of  associates  and  amusements  that  are 
suitable  for  girls  of  her  age  and  up-bringing. 

GILLETTE.  [Sneeringly.]  She  enjoyed  the  associates  and 
the  amusements. 

NANCY.  Possibly,  but  I  am  sure  that  she  will  like  much 
more  the  ones  I  intend  to  provide  for  her  from  now  on. 
When  may  I  expect  the  statement? 

GILLETTE.  The  day  after  tomorrow. 

NANCY.  Good  night,  Mr.  Gillette. 

GILLETTE.  Good  night,  Mrs.  Fair. 


ACT  in]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  271 

[NANCY  goes  into  her  room.  GILLETTE  walks  up  and 
down.  He  is  deeply  annoyedy  worried.  Enter 
SYLVIA.  She  runs  across  to  him. 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  Gillie,  the  bunch  said  to  tell  you 

GILLETTE.  [Irritably.']  Oh,  hang  the  bunch. 

SYLVIA.  Why,  Dudley,  what's  the  matter? 

GILLETTE.  Your  mother  has  thrown  me  down.  She  has 
cancelled  her  tour. 

SYLVIA.  [Surprised.]    Mother's  not  going  away? 

GILLETTE.  No,  and  she  has  put  me  in  an  awful  hole. 

SYLVIA.  How? 

GILLETTE.  Oh,  you  wouldn't  understand  about  business. 
Where  the  devil  am  I  going  to  find  fifteen  thousand  dol 
lars  by  the  day  after  tomorrow? 

SYLVIA.  I'm  so  sorry  you're  so  worried. 

GILLETTE.  I  can  do  with  a  little  sympathy.  She's  made 
me  feel  like  a  yellow  dog. 

SYLVIA.  Did  Mother  say  something  unkind  to  you? 

GILLETTE.  [Bitterly.]  Did  she?  She  spoke  "plainly"  and 
"hoped  I  wouldn't  resent  it."  Me  doing  all  I  could  so  that 
you  wouldn't  be  lonely.  A  lot  of  thanks  I  got.  Told  me 
I  wasn't  good  enough  to  associate  with  you.  [He  laughs.] 
Well,  if  she  objects  to  me,  what's  she  going  to  say  about 
your  father  and  Angy  Brice? 

SYLVIA.  Dudley!     What  do  you  mean? 

GILLETTE.  The  minute  your  mother's  wise,  she'll  get  a 
divorce. 

SYLVIA.  [Shocked.]  Divorce! 

GILLETTE.  Why,  you  poor  kid,  aren't  you  onto  your 
father  and  Angy  Brice?  Everybody  else  in  town  is. 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  I  never  thought  my  Daddy  would  go  back 
on  me. 

[Brokenhearted,  she  sinks  into  a  chair,  sobbing. 

GILLETTE.  Your  whole  family  has  gone  back  on  you. 
That  selfish  brother  of  yours  has  no  time  for  anybody  but 
his  wife.  Your  mother  leaving  you  alone  for  years  at  a 


272  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  in 

stretch,  and  your  father  running  around  with  Angy  Brice. 
A  lot  they  care  about  you. 

SYLVIA.  Nobody  wants  me. 

[GILLETTE,  suddenly  alarmed  lest  SYLVIA'S  sobs  may 
be  overheard  by  her  mother  t  crosses  quickly  to  her 
and  quiets  her. 

GILLETTE.  I  want  you.  I'm  the  only  one  that  cares  any 
thing  about  you,  and  I've  been  ordered  to  say  good-bye 
to  you. 

SYLVIA.  {Bewildered^  Good-bye? 

GILLETTE.  Yes,  you're  going  to  be  taken  down  to  the 
country. 

SYLVIA.  I  won't  go. 

GILLETTE.  You'll  have  to  go  and  you'll  soon  forget  all 
about  me. 

SYLVIA.  I  won't. 

GILLETTE.  Oh,  yes,  you  will. 

SYLVIA.  I  won't. 

GILLETTE.  No?    Then  prove  it. 

SYLVIA.  How? 

GILLETTE.  Come  with  me  to  Montreal  tonight. 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  Dudley! 

GILLETTE.  We'll  be  married  as  soon  as  we  get  there. 

SYLVIA.  I  couldn't.    They'd  never  forgive  me. 

GILLETTE.  Sure  they  will.  Didn't  they  forgive  Alan? 
Forgive  you!  Why,  they'll  be  on  their  knees  to  you  and 
to  me,  too. 

SYLVIA.  I  don't  know  what  to  do. 

GILLETTE.  Oh,  all  right.  I  might  have  known  you 
wouldn't  come  through.  You  pretend  to  care  for  me.  It's 
only  a  bluff.  Well,  stay  here  where  nobody  wants  you. 
Good-bye. 

[He  makes  a  pretence  of  leaving  hurriedly.  SYLVIA 
rises  and  runs  to  him. 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  Dudley,  please  don't  go. 

GILLETTE.  Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it? 

SYLVIA.  [Pathetically.]  You're  sure  you  really  want  me? 


ACT  m]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  273 

GILLETTE.  Of  course  I  want  you.  We  can't  talk  here. 
Meet  me  down  stairs  in  the  lounge  and  we  will  talk  it  over. 
Now  you  won't  weaken? 

[He  opens  the  door  to  the  hall.  SYLVIA  crosses 
it  to  her  room.  He  closes  the  door  and  stands 
for  an  instant  smiling  in  triumph  as  he  looks  at 
the  door  to  NANCY'S  room,  then  chuckling,  goes 
hurriedly  and  gets  his  hat  and  cane  from  the  sofa, 
and  is  starting  to  leave  the  room  quickly  when 
NANCY  enters  from  her  room.  He  stops  and  assumes 
a  nonchalant  attitude. 

NANCY.  [Surprised.']  Oh,  Mr.  Gillette,  where  is  Sylvia? 
GILLETTE.  I've  said  good-bye  to  her.     She's  gone  to  her 
room.     Good  night,  Mrs.  Fair. 
NANCY.  Good  night. 

[GILLETTE  bows  smilingly  and  leaves  the  room,  clos 
ing  the  door.    NANCY  stands  thinking,  then  goes 
towards  the  d'oor  on  her  way  to  SYLVIA'S  room.    Her 
hand  is   on   the   knob   when   the   telephone   rings 
sharply,  then  again.    NANCY  answers  it. 
NANCY.  Hello.     Put  her  on,  please.    Who?    Mrs.  Brice? 
Oh,  this  is  Mrs.  Fair.     Yes.     I'll  give  Mr.  Fair  your  mes 
sage.    [Enter  JEFFREY.]    That  was  Mrs.  Brice  on  the  tele 
phone. 

JEFFREY.  [Surprised.]  Really?    Why,  I  saw  her 

NANCY.  Yes,  I  know.  She  said  that  you  had  just  been 
there,  but  she  wants  to  see  you  tomorrow. 

JEFFREY.  Oh,  all  right.  [He  goes  towards  his  room.'] 
Sylvia  home? 

NANCY.  Yes,  she  is  in  her  room.    Jeffrey  [He  stops],  I 
hardly  know  how  to  say  it.     I  understand  about  Mrs.  Brice, 
but  has  it  ever  occurred  to  you  that  other  people  mightn't? 
JEFFREY.  What  do  you  mean? 

NANCY.  The  worst  of  these  platonic  friendships  is,  that 
people  will  talk. 

JEFFREY.  Have  you  heard  any  talk? 


274  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  m 

[He  places  his  overcoat  and  hat  on  a  chair  and  goes 
toward  NANCY. 

NANCY.  Well,  Bridget  Wynne  isn't  a  gossip,  but  even  she 
wrote  to  me  that  you  and  Mrs.  Brice  were  about  a  good 
deal  together. 

JEFFREY.  Oh,  she  is  still  reporting  to  her  senior  officer. 
[He  sits  at  the  right  of  the  table.    NANCY  sits  at  the 
left  of  it. 

NANCY.  Jeffrey,  frankly,  do  you  think  it  courteous  to  go 
to  see  Mrs.  Brice  a  few  hours  after  my  arrival? 

JEFFREY.  You  were  busy  with  your  own  affairs  as  usual. 

NANCY.  I  have  some  pride. 

JEFFREY.  I  don't  understand. 

NANCY.  I  was  very  glad  to  have  the  excuse  of  letters  so 
that  I  need  not  prolong  your  boredom  at  dinner. 

JEFFREY.  I  wasn't  bored.  Sorry  if  you  were.  I  thought 
I  was  very  entertaining.  You'll  have  to  make  allowances 
for  me.  I  haven't  had  the  advantage  of  mingling  with 
the  mighty  minds  of  two  continents. 

NANCY.  Jeffrey,  I'd  like  you  to  be  serious. 

JEFFREY.  Oh,  haven't  we  been?  I  think  being  told  by 
your  wife  that  you  are  a  bore  is  fairly  serious.  Still  if 
there's  more,  let's  have  it. 

[There  is  a  slight  pause. 

NANCY.  Jeffrey,  long  ago  we  decided  that  if  we  ever  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  our  marriage  had  been  a  mistake 

JEFFREY.  I  haven't  said  so. 

NANCY.  Words  aren't  necessary.     Actions  sometimes 

JEFFREY.  When  it  comes  to  actions,  I  haven't  forsaken 
my  bed  and  board. 

NANCY.  We  needn't  go  into  that. 

JEFFREY.  Pardon  me,  but  that  is  the  crux  of  the  whole 
affair. 

NANCY.  Oh,  no,  Jeffrey,  your  attentions  to  Mrs.  Brice 
are  the  crux  of  the  affair. 

JEFFREY.  What  right  have  you  to  object  to  anything 
I  do? 


ACT  m]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  275 

NANCY.  My  right  as  your  wife. 

JEFFREY.  Haven't  you  forfeited  that  right? 

NANCY.  How? 

JEFFREY.  If  you  prefer  the  public  to  your  husband,  you 
mustn't  kick  at  the  price  you  have  to  pay. 

NANCY.  Meaning  that  I  am  not  to  protest  if  you  choose 
to  make  me  conspicuous  by  your  attentions  to  that  woman? 
Really  this  is  delicious. 

[She  laughs,  rises  and  goes  to  the  desk,  at  which  she 
sits. 

JEFFREY.  Are  you  paying  me  the  compliment  of  being 
jealous  of  me? 

NANCY.  Jealous  of  a  man  who  doesn't  want  me! 

JEFFREY.  Oh,  Nancy,  you  know  damn  well  I  want  you. 
You  may  not  be  jealous  of  me,  but  I  am  of  you,  and  of 
everything  that  concerns  you.  I'm  jealous  of  your  career 
because  it  takes  you  away  from  me.  [He  rises.']  I  tried 
to  live  up  to  our  agreement.  Haven't  I  the  right  to  expect 
that  you'd  live  up  to  it,  too?  If  it  was  my  job  to  provide 
the  home,  wasn't  it  your  job  to  take  care  of  it?  Had  you 
the  right,  be  honest,  Nancy,  to  go  on  this  tour?  You 
can't  be  married  and  be  a  free  agent  without  making 
someone  suffer.  I'm  so  damned  sick  of  my  life,  as  I'm 
living  it  now — but  there,  I  don't  want  to  keep  you  if  you 
want  to  be  free. 

[He  turns  away  from  NANCY,  who  rises  and  follows 
him  quickly. 

NANCY.  I  don't  want  to  be  free.  [As  -JEFFREY  turns  to 
take  her  in  his  arms,  she  stops  himJ]  Oh,  wait,  I  want 
to  be  honest  with  myself  and  with  you.  I  couldn't  go  back 
to  my  life  as  I  lived  it  four  years  ago.  It  isn't  that  I  don't 
want  a  home.  While  I  was  in  France  there  were  glorious 
moments  and  honours  and  flattery,  but  there  were  nights 
when  I  was  so  sick  of  the  horrors,  the  pain,  the  misery,  that 
it  seemed  to  me  if  I  couldn't  put  my  head  on  your  shoul 
der  and  cry  out  the  loneliness  of  my  heart  against  yours 
I  couldn't  go  on.  [JEFFREY  takes  her  in  his  arms,  kisses 


276  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  m 

her.]  With  death  on  every  side  I  used  to  worry  for  fear 
you  weren't  taking  care  of  yourself.  They  decorated  me 
for  bravery.  They  never  knew  what  a  corward  I  was  about 
you.  Why,  on  this  tour  the  nights  when  I  had  had  a  great 
success  and  while  people  were  crowding  around  me  con 
gratulating  me,  I'd  see  some  wife  tuck  her  hand  through 
her  husband's  arm,  just  as  I  had  tucked  mine  so  many 
times  through  yours,  and  she  would  trot  away  home  with 
her  man  and  I  would  go  to  a  lonely  hotel  room  and  think 
about  you.  Then  is  when  I  would  realise  that  success 
meant  nothing  if  I  had  to  give  up  you. 

[She  breaks  down  and  cries.  JEFFREY'S  arms  are  about 
herf  he  murmurs  her  name  and  kisses  her. 

JEFFREY.  Then  Nancy,  I've  got  you  again. 

NANCY.  Yes,  and  hang  on  to  me.     If  I  ever  try  to  go 
away  again,  lock  me  up  on  bread  and  water. 

JEFFREY.  What  about  this  supplementary  tour? 

NANCY.  [Laughing  in  hysterical  relief.]  There  "ain't  go 
ing  to  be  no  tour." 

JEFFREY.  Fine!     When  did  you  decide  that? 

NANCY.  Tonight.     But  don't  ask  me  why. 

JEFFREY.  I  don't  care  a  damn  why,  just  so  you're  not 
going. 

[He  kisses  her. 

NANCY.  Bless  you.    The  first  thing  we'll  do  will  be  to 
get  out  of  this  hole. 

[She  moves  away  from  him. 

JEFFREY.  I  don't  believe  Sylvia  will  like  the  country. 

NANCY.  She'll  like  it  with  me.    She's  going  to  have  all 

the  fun  she's  missed  in  four  years  crowded  into  as  many 

months.     It's  going  to  be  very  expensive  for  you,  darling. 

[She  laughs  and  sits  on  the  sofa.    JEFFREY  follows  her 

and  sits  beside  her. 

JEFFREY.  Go  as  far  as  you  like. 

NANCY.  She  and  I  are  going  out  tomorrow  and  buy  a  lot 
of  frills.    And  if  the  exchequer  runs  to  it  I  want  new  cur- 


ACT  m]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  277 

tains  for  the  living-room  and  then  I  am  going  to  give  the 
grandest  party  for  my  two  daughters! 

JEFFREY.  [Pleased.]  You're  going  to  take  Peggy  up? 

NANCY.  No,  I'm  going  to  try  to  make  her  love  me,  that's 
all. 

JEFFREY.  She  will.  After  that,  what?  Remember, 
Nancy,  I  don't  want  to  tie  you  down  to  the  home. 

NANCY.  If  you  can  have  a  career  and  do  your  duty  to 
the  family  too,  can't  I?  I  ought  to  be  as  smart  as  you. 
But  you'll  help  me  find  some  welfare  work  to  keep  me  and 
my  unit  out  of  mischief,  won't  you? 

JEFFREY.  Sure. 

NANCY.  That's  settled.  Oh,  Jeff,  you  are  a  nice  old 
thing. 

[She  leans  back  in  his  arms. 

JEFFREY.  Nancy,  you're  a  darling. 

NANCY.  [Teasingly.]  And  you're  quite  sure  that  I  am 
as  well  suited  to  you  as  Angy  Brice? 

JEFFREY.  Oh,  forget  her.  I  discharged  all  my  obliga 
tions  to  her  tonight. 

NANCY.  I  am  kind  of  sorry  for  poor  Angy.  [A  pause.] 
Obligations?  What  obligations?  [JEFFREY  does  not  re 
ply.  NANCY  draws  herself  away  from  him,  looks  at  him.] 
Has  she  any  real  claim  on  you?  Tell  me  the  truth.  Tell 
me  the  truth. 

JEFFREY.  Nancy,  for  God's  sake,  be  big  enough  to  un 
derstand. 

NANCY.  Oh! 

[She  shudders  away  from  him,  rises,  goes  to  the  man 
tel-piece  and  buries  her  face  in  her  hands. 

JEFFREY.  It  was  just  after  you  had  gone  on  this  tour. 
You  know  how  we  parted.  You  didn't  write  to  me.  I 
was  lonely,  reckless.  But  I've  never  loved  her.  You 
won't  believe  it,  but  I've  never  ceased  loving  you. 

NANCY.  Stop,  stop.  Everything  you  say  only  makes  it 
more  horrible.  [She  moves  away  from  him  across  the  room. 
JEFFREY  rises,  moves  about  and  finally  stands  looking  into] 


278  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  m 

the  fireplace.  There  is  silence.  Then  NANCY  goes  towards 
the  door  to  her  room.  She  stops.]  I  will  go  West  and 
establish  a  residence.  We  won't  drag  in  Mrs.  Brice.  Your 
lawyer  will  make  all  the  necessary  arrangements  and  com 
municate  with  me. 

[She  turns  to  go. 

JEFFREY.  You're  going  to  divorce  me? 

NANCY.  [Turning  to  him.]  You  don't  think  I'd  go  on 
living  with  you? 

JEFFREY.  Nancy,  you're  not  going  to  hold  me  entirely  to 
blame.  You're  not  going  to  dodge  your  own  responsibility? 

NANCY.  For  what  am  I  responsible? 

JEFFREY.  Surely  you  don't  think  my  affair  with  Mrs. 
Brice  was  a  greater  sin  against  our  love  than  your  craving 
for  a  career? 

NANCY.  And  surely  you  are  not  daring  to  place  me  in 
the  same  category  as  yourself? 

JEFFREY.  Why  not?  Do  you  think  you  can  starve  my 
affections,  my  passion,  for  years,  without  moral  guilt? 

NANCY.  You  must  be  mad  to  think  such  thoughts,  and 
lost  to  all  sense  of  decency  to  express  them. 

JEFFREY.  I 

NANCY.  I  refuse  to  listen  to  anything  more.  All  I  want 
to  know  is,  are  you  going  to  try  to  keep  me  against  my  will, 
or  must  I  make  a  scandal  to  get  free?  [JEFFREY  is  silent.] 
Surely  you  don't  want  to  blacken  the  name  of  the  woman 
you  are  going  to  marry? 

JEFFREY.  I'm  not  going  to  marry  her.  She  knows  it.  I'm 
not  in  love  with  her,  nor  she  with  me.  A  sum  of  money 
will  console  her. 

NANCY.  Your  bargain  with  her  has  no  interest  for  me. 
You  may  make  what  use  of  your  freedom  you  choose.  I 
mean  to  have  mine. 

JEFFREY.  Very  well.  My  lawyer  knows  the  amount  of 
my  income.  You  may  have  what  you  wish  of  it. 

NANCY.  I  wouldn't  take  any  of  it,  were  it  not  for  Sylvia. 

JEFFREY.  What  do  you  mean?    Sylvia? 


ACT  m]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  279 

NANCY.  Do  you  think  I  would  allow  her  to  remain  with 
you?  Look  what  your  neglect  has  made  of  her.  Through 
your  carelessness  Mr.  Gillette  has  been  allowed  to  intro 
duce  her  to  a  sort  of  life  until  she  is  no  more  the  child  I 

sent  home  to  you  than Do  you  think  when  I  realise 

that  you  are  responsible  that  I  would  trust  her  to  you 
again?  Never!  Never! 

JEFFREY.  And  do  you  think  I'm  going  to  let  you  have 
her?  She's  the  biggest  thing  in  my  life.  I'll  never  let  her 

g°- 

NANCY.  She's  the  only  thing  in  mine.  If  you  force  me 
to  do  it,  I'll  tell  her  the  truth  about  you. 

JEFFREY.  So  that  is  your  threat!  She  is  in  her  room,  you 
say.  Well,  you  tell  her  the  truth  about  me  and  let  her 
decide. 

[He  starts  toward  the  door  to  the  hall.    NANCY  stands 

aghast.    ALAN  rushes  in,  followed  by  PEGGY. 
ALAN.  Dad!    Mother!    Where  is  Sylvia? 
NANCY.  She  is  in  her  room. 

ALAN.  She  is  not.  [To  PEGGY.]  I  was  right.  It  was 
Sylvia  in  that  taxicab  with  Gillette.  [To  JEFFREY.]  They 
drove  away  just  as  we  arrived. 

PEGGY.  I  found  this  letter  on  Sylvia's  dressing-table. 

[She  gives  the  letter  to  ALAN,  who  hands  it  to  JEFFREY. 
ALAN.  For  you,  Dad. 

[JEFFREY  takes  the  letter.     The  others  watch  him 
apprehensively  as  he  opens  it. 

JEFFREY.  [Reading.}  "Dear  Daddy— I " 

[He  mumbles  indistinctly,  then,  overcome  by  its  con 
tents,  he  crumples  it  in  his  hand  and  drops  his  head 
in  misery.  NANCY,  who  has  been  watching  him  in 
fear,  starts  toward  him.  She  is  trembling  and  can 
scarcely  walk.  Her  hands  are  outstretched  toward 
the  letter. 
NANCY.  [Hoarsely.']  Jeff,  Jeff! 

[JEFFREY  looks  at  NANCY,  then  hands  her  the  letter. 
JEFFREY.  Sylvia  has  decided.     [He  rushes  to  the  tele- 


280  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  in 

phone. ,]     Hello,  hello,  give  me  police  headquarters  quickly, 

quickly. 

[JEFFREY  is  at  the  telephone,  frantically  calling  Police 
Headquarters.  ALAN  and  PEGGY  are  beside  him. 
NANCY,  with  the  letter  crushed  against  her  breast, 
leans  for  support  against  the  table.  She  stares 
straight  ahead,  her  face  drawn  with  agony,  as  the 

CURTAIN  FALLS. 


THE  FOURTH  ACT 

The  scene  is  the  same  as  that  of  the  previous  act.  The  room 
is  in  semi-darkness,  the  curtains  drawn  aside  showing 
through  the  window,  blurred  by  the  drizzling  rain,  the 
lights  of  a  building  across  the  street.  Two  hours  have 
elapsed. 

NANCY  is  standing  at  the  window,  peering  into  the  street. 
Presently  PEGGY,  a  wrap  over  her  arm,  enters  from 
NANCY'S  bedroom.  NANCY,  with  a  little  cry,  turns 
quickly  at  the  sound  of  the  closing  door,  then  with  a 
sigh  of  disappointment  resumes  her  watching  attitude. 
PEGGY  goes  to  her  and  places  the  wrap  about  her 
shoulders. 

NANCY.  Thank  you,  Peggy  dear. 

[PEGGY  switches  on  the  light  in  the  chandelier.    The 
bell  of  the  telephone  on  the  writing-desk  rings  shrilly. 
PEGGY  rushes  to  it.    NANCY  turns  sharply  and  dur 
ing  the  telephone  conversation,  to  which  she  listens 
intently,  moves  down  and  stands  behind  PEGGY. 
PEGGY.  [Excitedly.']  Hello,    yes.     Police    Headquarters. 
Oh,  yes,  Tom.    Any  news? — None.    Oh — Gillette  went  to 
his  apartment.     Was  Sylvia  with  him  then? — She  waited 
outside  in  the  taxi.    You  haven't  any  idea  where  they  went 
from  there. — Your  men  are  watching  all  the  depots  and  fer 
ries.    [She  breaks  down.]    Oh,  Tom,  you've  got  to  find  her. 
— No.    I  won't.    He's  there  with  you? — Hello,  Alan.    Your 

mother?     Why 

[Not  knowing  what  to  say,  she  turns  to  NANCY,  who 
takes  the  telephone.  PEGGY  bows  her  head  on  the 
desk,  crying. 

NANCY.  Yes,  dear,  I'm  all  right. — Don't  worry  about  me, 

281 


282  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  iv 

there's  a  good  boy. — Your  father?  He's  gone  out.  I  don't 
know  where. — Now,  Alan,  dear,  you  mustn't  give  up  hope. 
You'll  find  her.— That's  better.— That's  more  like  my  boy. 
Of  course  you'll  bring  her  back  to  me.  I  know  you  will. — 
That's  it.  Good-bye,  dear.  [She  puts  the  telephone  on  the 
table  and,  smiling  bravely,  places  her  hand  on  PEGGY'S 
head.']  Don't  cry,  Peggy  dear;  they'll  find  her.  They'll 
find  her.  [Then,  beginning  to  lose  her  self-control,  she  turns 
away  to  the  window,  her  hands  folded  as  though  in  prayer.] 
Oh,  God,  find  her.  Find  her.  Find  her. 

[She  goes  to  the  window  and,  leaning  against  it,  her  face 
pressed  against  the  panes,  breaks  into  long  shiver 
ing  sobs.    PEGGY  goes  to  her  and,  putting  her  arms 
about  her,  leads  her  to  the  fireplace  and  places  her 
in  the  couch  where  NANCY  sits,  holding  out  her  hands 
to  the  blaze.    PEGGY  kneels  beside  her.    There  is  a 
pause,  then  NANCY  looks  at  the  clock  on  the  mantel. 
NANCY.  It's  almost  twelve  o'clock. 
PEGGY.  We'll   hear   some  good   news   very   soon,   now. 
[Rising.]    Wouldn't  you  like  a  cup  of  tea?    [NANCY  shakes 
her  head.}    Not  if  I  sent  for  the  things  and  made  it  myself? 
I  make  very  nice  tea? 

NANCY.  I'm  sure  you  do.    But  I  couldn't. 

[There1  s  a  pause. 

PEGGY.  Oh,  Mrs.  Fair!  I  wouldn't  keep  on  reading  that 
letter. 

NANCY.  Oh,  Peggy,  I  know  it  by  heart.  "I'm  in  every 
body's  way.  Nobody  wants  me.  Dudley  does,  so  I'm  going 
with  him.  .  .  .  Sylvia."  Oh,  my  baby! 

[She  breaks  down  again. 
PEGGY.  Please  don't  cry — please! 

NANCY.  No,  I  mustn't.  I  mustn't.  [A  slight  pause.] 
Oh,  if  I  could  only  do  something! 

PEGGY.  There  is  nothing  to  do  but  wait. 

[She  sits  on  the  arm  of  the  couch,  her  arms  around 
NANCY.    Again  there  is  a  pause. 


ACT  iv]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  283 

NANCY.  [Wildly.]  Oh,  Peggy,  tell  me  again  that  they'll 
find  her! 

PEGGY.  Of  course  they  will.  Now,  Mrs.  Fair,  you 
mustn't.  Please  don't  cry. 

NANCY.  [Controlling  herself.]  Why  are  you  so  good  to 
me? 

PEGGY.  [Very  tenderly.]  Because  you're  Alan's  mother. 
And  because  you're  you. 

NANCY.  I  don't  deserve  this,  my  dear,  but  I'm  very  grate 
ful. 

PEGGY.  I've  been  wanting  to  do  this  ever  since  that  day 
we  hurt  you  so  cruelly. 

[NANCY  pulls  PEGGY'S  head  down  to  her  and  kisses  her. 
PEGGY  sits  beside  NANCY  and,  taking  NANCY'S  hand 
in  hers,  strokes  it  affectionately.  There  is  a  pause. 
Both  of  them  are  lost  in  thought. 

PEGGY.  The  one  thing  I  can't  understand  is  Sylvia's  leav 
ing  her  father.  She  would  never  have  gone  if  she  hadn't  felt 
that  in  some  way  he  had  turned  against  her.  She  might  have 

left 

[She  stops  abruptly. 

NANCY.  You  could  understand  her  leaving  me.  I'm  be 
ginning  to  understand  that,  too.  I'm  beginning  to  see  that 
he  has  more  right  to  her  than  I  have. 

PEGGY.  Oh,  I  don't  mean  that  she  doesn't  love  you,  but 
the  love  Sylvia  had  for  her  father  was  wonderful. 

NANCY.  He  had  earned  it. 

PEGGY.  I  don't  think  Mr.  Fair  realised  it,  but  he  didn't 
want  her  to  love  anyone  more  than  she  did  him. 

NANCY.  This  is  going  to  be  terrible  for  Jeffrey.  [A 
pause.]  It's  strange,  Peggy,  how  one  can  seem  to  be  doing 
one's  duty  and  fail  so  miserably — go  so  hopelessly  wrong. 
[A  pause,  then  NANCY  looks  toward  the  telephone.]  Queer 
they  don't  telephone.  I  wonder  where  Jeffrey  is?  If  they 
don't  find  Sylvia 

PEGGY.  Oh,  they  will,  they  will. 


284  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  iv 

NANCY.  [Rising.']  Oh,  what  is  her  father  going  to  do 
without  her? 

PEGGY.  Thank  God,  you're  here.  At  least,  whatever  hap 
pens,  he  has  you. 

[NANCY  winces  and  turns  away  as  the  door  opens  to 
admit  JEFFREY,  tired,  haggard.  Both  the  women 
turn  to  him  inquiringly.  He  shakes  his  head.  Then 
places  his  hat  and  coat  on  the  chair  beside  the  door. 
PEGGY  goes  to  him. 
JEFFREY.  Any  news? 

PEGGY.  [Cheerfully.]  Not  yet.  But  there  will  be  very 
soon. 

JEFFREY.  You  all  right,  Nancy? 
NANCY.  Yes,  Jeffrey. 
JEFFREY.  Did  Alan  telephone? 
PEGGY.  Yes,  just  a  moment  ago. 
JEFFREY.  No  trace  of  them? 

[PEGGY  shakes  her  head.    JEFFREY  moves  slowly  down 
to  the  chair  at  the  desk,  where  he  sits,  brooding. 
PEGGY  sits  in  the  armchair  at  the  table.    A  pause. 
JEFFREY.  [Savagely.]  Curse  the  day  the  swine  came  into 
my  house! 

NANCY.  Oh,  Jeff,  don't  make  me  feel  my  responsibility 
for  it  all  any  more  than  I  do.  I  can't  bear  it.  I  can't  bear 
it. 

JEFFREY.  I'm  so  sorry,  Nancy. 
NANCY.  That's  all  right,  Jeff. 

[NANCY  goes  to  the  window  and  looks  down  into  the 
street,  shading  her  eyes  with  her  hands  to  cut  off 
the  light  from  the  chandelier.  Presently  she  rubs 
the  moisture  off  the  pane  and  peers  out  again.  Then 
she  lifts  the  sash  and  leans  out,  looking  down  into 
the  street.  Suddenly  she  gives  a  little  start. 
NANCY.  Jeff!  Here  comes  a  taxi! 

[JEFFREY  and  PEGGY  run  to  the  window  and  look  out 

over  NANCY'S  shoulder. 
PEGGY.  [Excitedly.]  Is  it  stopping? 


ACT  iv]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  285 

NANCY.  No,  it's  going  on. 

[PEGGY  and  JEFFREY  return  to  their  chairs;  NANCY 
remains  at  the  window.  A  pause,  then  JEFFREY  takes 
out  his  watch. 

PEGGY.  [Whispering.']  What  time  is  it? 
JEFFREY.  [Whispering.']  A  quarter  past  twelve. 

[PEGGY,  sighing,  sinks  back  into  the  chair,  and  after  a 

moment  JEFFREY  turns  and  looks  at  NANCY. 
JEFFREY.  Mother,  you'd  better  come  away  from  that  win 
dow;  there  is  a  draught.  You'll  take  cold.  [NANCY  does 
not  reply.]  Nancy,  you'll  take  cold.  [NANCY  does  not 
answer.  Another  pause.  Then  JEFFREY,  rising,  goes  to 
PEGGY,  touches  her  quietly  on  the  shoulder.]  Peggy,  get 
her  away  from  that  window.  I  can't  stand  it.  I  can't  stand 
it. 

[Profoundly  moved,  he  walks  over  to  the  sofa  and 
sits.  PEGGY  goes  to  NANCY  and  touches  her  on  the 
shoulder. 

NANCY.  Yes,  dear? 

PEGGY.  I  wouldn't  watch  for  them,  dear. 
NANCY.  No? 

PEGGY.  You  know  a  watched  kettle  never  boils.  [NANCY 
smiles,  but  remains  at  the  window.  PEGGY  returns  to  the 
arm-chair  and  stands  behind  it.]  Is  it  raining  now,  Mr. 
Fair? 

JEFFREY.  Yes. 

NANCY.  [Quite  unemotionally.']  I  hope  Sylvia  hadn't 
on  thin  shoes.  She  takes  cold  so  easily.  At  least,  she  used 
to. 

[JEFFREY  buries  his  face  in  his  hands.    PEGGY'S  lips 

quiver.    Her  eyes  fill  with  tears.    They  wait. 
JEFFREY.  Nancy,  did  Gillette  owe  you  any  money? 
NANCY.  [Intently  watching  the  street.}  Yes,  several  thou 
sand. 

JEFFREY.  That's  it! 

NANCY.  [Indifferently.]  What  do  you  mean? 

JEFFREY.  I  found  out  from  Tom  Gibbs  tonight  that  Gil- 


286  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  iv 

lette  was  the  man  who  was  mixed  up  in  that  Bazaar  scandal. 
He  has  stolen  your  money  or  was  going  to. 
NANCY.  I  don't  understand. 

JEFFREY.  Don't  you  see  you  can't  prosecute  him  now 
without  bringing  Sylvia  into  it?  ...  Damn  him! 

[It  all  seems  of  little  moment  to  NANCY,  and  she  turns 
again  to  the  window.     The  door  to  the  hall  opens 
very  softly  and  ALAN  stands  in  the  doorway,  unseen 
by  JEFFREY  and  NANCY.    PEGGY,  moving  to  sit  in 
the  chair,  sees  ALAN  and  goes  quietly  to  him.    He 
whispers  to  her  and  she  darts  out  and  across  the  hall 
into  SYLVIA'S  room.     He  comes  in  quickly,  closing 
the  door.    At  the  sound  NANCY  and  JEFFREY  turn. 
JEFFREY  springs  to  his  feet. 
NANCY.  [With  a  great  cry.]  Alan! 
ALAN.  She's  here. 
JEFFREY.  Thank  God! 

[NANCY  makes  a  rush  for  the  door. 
ALAN.  [Stopping  her.]  Wait,   mother.     What   are  you 
going  to  say  to  her?    What  are  you  going  to  do? 
NANCY.  Oh,  Alan,  what  would  I  do? 
ALAN.  I  didn't  know. 
JEFFREY.  Where  did  you  find  her? 
ALAN.  At  12  5th  Street  station.     They  were  on  their  way 
to  Montreal. 
JEFFREY.  Where  is  he? 

ALAN.  I've  taken  care  of  him.    He's 

NANCY.  [Hysterically,  and  trying  to  pass  ALAN.]  What 
does  it  matter  where  he  is?  All  that  matters  is  that  she's 
here.  Don't  shut  her  outside.  Alan,  do  you  hear  me?  Let 
me  go  to  her! 

JEFFREY.  Easy,  Nancy,  easy. 

ALAN.  [Taking  her  in  his  arms.]  All  right,  mother,  all 
right.  But  be  careful — treat  her  very  gently. 

[He  goes. 

NANCY.  Jeffrey,  I'm  giving  up  my  claims  to  her.  She's 
yours.  So  be  kind  to  her. 


ACT  iv]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  28T 

[SYLVIA  enters,  white- faced,  defiant,  followed  by  PEGGY 
and  ALAN.  NANCY  rushes  toward  her  to  embrace 
her.  SYLVIA,  stretching  out  her  hands,  stops  her. 
NANCY,  surprised,  stunned  for  the  moment,  looks 
toward  JEFFREY  bewilder edly. 

NANCY.  Jeff 

[JEFFREY  looks  at  SYLVIA,  who  looks  coldly  at  him. 

NANCY.  Won't  you  sit  down,  dear? 

SYLVIA.  I  can  take  what  everybody  has  to  say,  standing. 

NANCY.  [Very  tenderly.}  Darling,  don't  be  afraid. 

SYLVIA.  I'm  not  afraid. 

NANCY.  We're  not  going  to  scold  you.  We're  not  going 
to  say  anything. 

SYLVIA.  No?    Well,  I  am. 

JEFFREY.  [Sternly.]  Very  well.  Go  on.  I'm  interested 
to  hear  what  you  have  to  say. 

NANCY.  [Turning  to  him.]  Jeff,  please. 

JEFFREY.  I'll  handle  this,  Nancy.  Alan,  take  Peggy  into 
your  mother's  room. 

SYLVIA.  She  needn't  go.    She's  in  on  this. 

PEGGY.  I? 

SYLVIA.  You  were  responsible  for  our  arrest,  weren't  you? 

ALAN.  You  weren't  arrested. 

SYLVIA.  We  would  have  been  if  you  hadn't  been  there. 

PEGGY.  No,  no,  dear.  Tom  would  have  brought  you  here 
to  us. 

SYLVIA.  Oh,  then,  you  did  arrange  it  all?  Don't  you 
think,  for  a  new  member  of  this  family,  you  were  taking  a 
good  deal  on  yourself  to 

JEFFREY.  Come,  come,  Sylvia;  it  was  I  who  got  Tom 
Gibbs  on  the  wire.  You  should  be  very  grateful  to  Peggy 
and  her  brother.  God  knows  we  are. 

SYLVIA.  [Turning  upon  him.]  I'm  not.  What  right  has 
she — what  right  have  any  of  you — to  butt  in  on  my  affairs? 

NANCY.  Why,  my  dear,  we  all  love  you. 

SYLVIA.  You  acted  like  it,  didn't  you?  What  have  you 
all  got  against  Dudley? 


288  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  iv 

ALAN.  Sylvia,  I've  told  you  that  he  was  an  embezzler, 
and  that  his  only  idea  in  marrying  you  was  to  use  you  to 
prevent  mother  prosecuting  him. 

SYLVIA.  That's  what  you  say.  Mother,  has  Dudley  taken 
any  money  from  you? 

NANCY.  No. 

SYLVIA.  Well,  Alan,  mother  ought  to  know. 

ALAN.  He  confessed  that  he  was  short  in  his  accounts. 

SYLVIA.  I  didn't  hear  him. 

ALAN.  You  weren't  there  when  he  was  begging  Gibbs  to 
let  him  go. 

SYLVIA.  No.  I  was  being  made  conspicuous,  seated  on  a 
bench  on  the  platform  between  two  officers.  Oh,  I'll  never 
forget  it! 

[She  puts  her  hands  to  her  face  as  though  to  shut  out 
the  memory.    Momentarily  her  spirit  is  broken. 

NANCY.  [Whispering.]  Jeff,  go  to  her  now. 

JEFFREY.  [Going  to  SYLVIA.]  I  am  sorry,  dear,  that  all 
this  had  to  happen — that  you  feel  we've  all  conspired  to 
disgrace  you.  But  we  were  only  trying  to  protect  you. 

SYLVIA.  Protect  me?  If  you  wanted  to  protect  me,  why 
wait?  You  knew  that  I  was  going  about  with  him. 

NANCY.  But,  Sylvia,  dear,  your  father  didn't  realise  the 
sort  of  friends  that  Mr.  Gillette  had — introduced 

SYLVIA.  He  introduced  me  to  the  only  friends  he  had. 
What  do  you  know  about  them?  You  never  met  them. 

JEFFREY.  Sylvia,  I  forbid  you  to  use  that  tone  to  your 
mother. 

NANCY.  Sylvia  is  right,  Jeff.  I  judged  them  solely  by 
what  she  told  me  of  them. 

SYLVIA.  And  while  you  were  judging  you  passed  sentence 
on  Dudley,  too,  didn't  you?  You  forbade  my  best  friend 
seeing  me  again. 

JEFFREY.  Your  mother  had  every  right  to  do  that. 

SYLVIA.  She  had  no  right  to  make  him  feel  that  he  wasn't 
fit  to  associate  with  me,  when  it  was  she  who  introduced 
him  to  me. 


ACT  iv]  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  289 

JEFFREY.  She  did  not  know  that  you  were  associating 
with  him  so  intimately. 

SYLVIA.  No.    She  wasn't  here,  was  she? 

NANCY.  No,  Sylvia,  I  wasn't  here. 

JEFFREY.  But  I  was.  I'm  to  blame.  I  should  have 
watched  over  you. 

SYLVIA.  But  you  didn't  care  what  I  was  doing,  where  I 
was  going,  just  so  you  were  free  to  run  around  with  Mrs. 
Brice. 

[JEFFREY  flinches  as  though  he  had  been  struck. 

NANCY.  Sylvia,  how  dare  you  talk  like  that  to  your 
father? 

ALAN.  Haven't  you  any  respect?  Haven't  you  any  feel 
ing?  Can't  you  see  that  you  are  hurting  father  and  mother 
cruelly? 

SYLVIA.  Well,  haven't  they  hurt  me? 

ALAN.  [Indignantly.]  Hurt  you!  You  ought  to  be  down 
on  your  knees,  thanking  them  for  saving  you  from  a  mar 
riage 

SYLVIA.  Were  you  worrying  about  how  cruelly  you  hurt 
mother  when  you  told  her  about  Peggy?  Would  you  have 
been  on  your  knees  thanking  them  if  they  had  tried  to  save 
you  from  marrying  her? 

JEFFREY.  Stop,  Sylvia.  How  can  you?  If  it  hadn't  been 
for  Peggy 

SYLVIA.  I  wouldn't  have  had  to  stand  all  this. 

ALAN.  You  don't  think  it's  pleasant  for  us,  do  you? 

SYLVIA.  There's  an  easy  way  of  stopping  it. 

JEFFREY.  How? 

SYLVIA.  [Hysterically.]  Let  me  get  out  of  here. 

[She  makes  a  rush  for  the  door.    ALAN  stops  her. 

JEFFREY.  Where  do  you  want  to  go? 

SYLVIA.  [Jerking  herself  away  from  ALAN.]  Anywhere 
away  from  all  of  you !  Why  am  I  dragged  back  here,  where 
nobody  loves  me,  wants  me? 

[She  throws  herself  in  the  arm-chair  at  the  table,  sob 
bing  wildly. 


290  THE  FAMOUS  MRS.  FAIR  [ACT  iv 

NANCY.  Your  father  loves  you,  wants  you. 

SYLVIA.  A  lot  he  loves  me!    He  loves  Angy  Brice. 

ALAN.  Who  told  you  this  damn  lie? 

SYLVIA.  [Sobbing.]  It's  not  a  lie.  Everybody  has  known 
but  us,  that  he  was  going  to  get  rid  of  mother  and  marry 
Angy. 

ALAN.  Dad — my  God! — this  isn't  true? 

SYLVIA.  [Rising.]  It  is  true.  Mother,  aren't  you  going  to 
leave  Daddy? 

[There  is  a  pause.    SYLVIA,  ALAN  and  PEGGY  are  wait 
ing  for  the  answer.    JEFFREY  stands  with  bowed  head. 

NANCY.  No. 

JEFFREY.  [Turning,  makes  an  effort  to  speak,  and  finally 
articulates.]  Nancy  1 

[Then,  overcome,  he  turns  away  to  the  window. 

SYLVIA.    [Going   to   NANCY.]    Why,    Dudley   said 

That's  why  I  went  away  with  him.  I  didn't  know  what 
would  become  of  me  when  you  separated.  I  thought  my 
Daddy  had  gone  back  on  me. 

[NANCY  folds  her  in  her  arms,  kissing  her.    JEFFREY 
comes  to  them. 

JEFFREY.  Your  daddy  will  never  go  back  on  you,  if  you 
will  only 

NANCY.  Jeff,  don't  make  conditions;  we've  both  been 
wrong.  We  must  be  content  with  whatever  Sylvia  wants. 

SYLVIA.  I  only  want  you  all  to  want  me. 

NANCY.  Oh,  my  dear!  my  dear! 

PEGGY.  [Snivelling.']  Alan,  where  is  Gillette? 

ALAN.  In  an  ambulance. 

[He  smiles  and  shows  his  clenched  fist. 


THE  END 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 
LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


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